Tales of Diablo: Journey of the Soul
by DarkNinjaX
Summary: The path of Mobius the Necromancer is a well beaten one...but what will appear at the end for his ultimate battle.


Tales of Diablo

Prelude Part I - Where it All Begins

Mobius sat on the back of the worn cart. His cloak and armour flowing around him as the winds became stronger. His white hair hung at his side, the centuries taking their toll on his appearance. Reaching down he picked up a small wooden wand and twisted it in his figure, the ancient wood held mystical powers over life and death the symbol of the Necromancer.

Standing he looked out over the top of the cart at his guide Warriv. The old man was smoking his pipe and singing, as he did everyday. He hadn't been too pleased when he had first met Mobius at the shattered remains of the rouge encampment, but after Mobius's adventures in the plains surrounding the settlement; he had been more than willing to take him on his way to Lut Gohlien.

Turning in the seat Warriv looked into the cold dead eyes of the Necromancer, he could see that his companion had seen the worst and best of time, and yet he had never spoken of the terrors he had seen in the old Monastery that dominated the plains surrounding the encampment. He opened his mouth to speak, but sensing that Mobius would not talk anyway he faltered, not wanting to anger his guest.

"You want to know what I saw, don't you", Warriv turned and looked at the Necromancer who was now standing and walking towards him across the cart.  
"Yes, I have heard tales of what happened down in those caves and in that Monastery, but they all seem impossible, tales of demons and undead warriors coming to life...it doesn't seem right" Warriv held the gaze of Mobius as he walked towards him, maybe he had asked to much.  
"I will tell you what you want to know Warriv, but you must know that even I did not understand what happened in those ruins and the tale is one of sadness and disaster that will shock you" Mobius sat down on the wooden slats next to Warriv and took his gaze from the old man, looking out over the clear night sky.

Warriv sat back in his seat; he felt a slight worry spread over him...maybe he didn't want to know what happened. Mobius turned his gaze back to the old man and smiled "Now where to begin".

Prelude part II -The Fall of TRistram.

Tristram had never been the same since the hero who had slain the lord Diablo had left over a week ago. The celebrations had continued for hours into the dark nights, people safe in the knowledge that the evil was vanquished and all was well in the world. However, near three days ago the first sightings of demons had begun in the fields around the town. Farmers fled to the town watch calling for aid as Fallen ruined their land and homes, and yet however hard the town guards tried, they could not stem the tide of demons that poured over the land.

The town's people formed a resistance against these beasts. After a day of fighting the town was besieged by the demons and all but the strongest were killed as they fled the flaming tide. The last bastion of hope was the town square. The citizens had erected barricades and traps for the creatures, driving them into a killing ground in the centre of the plaza, where even now the dead of both sides began to pile high into the stale air. One man, Griswold the blacksmith of the town took charge of the defenses. The captain of the guard had been slain in the first few days of fighting and Griswold had taken up the mantle of commander and leader to the people. In his day he had been a great soldier in the armies of Sanctuary, part of an elite legion of troops that put down resistance within the inner provinces. However, after he suffered a grievous wound in a long and arduous battle he was forced to retire and take up his place as Blacksmith in the town where he grew up.

He was a tall and handsome man, his muscles like twisted roots, winding down powerful arms to gargantuan hands. His face was scarred with the memories of battles and combat, and yet despite his grizzly appearance he was a kind hearted man, his low booming voice comma ding respect and love from those around him. He gladly took up the position of leader in the fighting for Tristram, believing that this was where he would die, a hero like he had been on the battlefield.

It had not been long before the demons had broken through, the people of the town no longer able to withstand the seemingly unstoppable waves of demons and undead that poured forth from the abyss. It was no less than a day before the defenders had been forced from the town centre and back into the ruins of the large Twisted Tree inn burning at the end of a dirty street. Griswold marshaled the last of the survivors in a desperate last stand against the demons. As the forces of evil prepared to burn them alive, trapping them inside, Griswold and his followers charged from the building and into the mass of enemies that stood before them. The dozen or so survivors hacked and slew their way through dozens of the beasts, smashing bone and mystical flesh, towards the centre of the enemies and their dark leader.

However, the battle went ill. The survivors after days of fighting were weak and were cut down in the midsts of combat, often by those they had lived with for years now turned into the waking dead to haunt the streets forever. Griswold however slew on, cutting a path deeper and deeper into the heart of the enemy, until finally he arrived besides the dark leader of the demon host. The figure was garbed in darkest black, red eyes gleaming from within the recesses of the hood. With a sudden spark of magic Griswold was wounded, falling to his knees and blood seeping from a magical gash in his side. The demonic leader then stood before him and pressed his skeletal hands upon his head, turning the once proud warrior into one of them, the undead.

Griswold now, his humanity lost, walks the streets of Tristram in his master's absence watching always for unwary adventurers seeking the lost wealth of the damned city. He also guards the one man who could have saved him from this doomed existence. In a cage within the town centre, a gallows has been erected, and a cage hung from the burnt wooden beams. Within that cage dwells an old man, who had stumbled upon the ruined city and sought to help the dead, not knowing the power of their demonic masters and being imprisoned himself. Deckard Cain now sits in his cage, hungry and weak, as Griswold and his demonic horde wait for their master's return and the verdict that will either end his life, or turn him into one that cannot die, an immortal undead.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter I - Into the Darkness

Mobius held the burning torch in front of him as he wound his way down the dark maze of passages that filled the underground of the Cold Plains. In his left hand he closed his grip over the aging wood of his wand, he could feel the spirits all round him, and the whole place stank of death and decay.

Turning a corner he spotted his target, a small blood red demon was hunched over the remains of a woman picking around her body for gold. Whispering a short incantation he pointed his wand at the body on the floor. Slowly the dead woman started to move, and the small Demon fled in terror. The woman's body convulsed horribly as bones began to reach out of her flesh and crawl there way out of her mortal body. As the flesh withered away the figure of a skeleton filled the small passage. It bent down and found a rusted blade on the floor, and with its rotten figure it held it tight, ready to avenge those that had sent it to its dark afterlife.

Mobius slipped round the wall and keeping his wand in front of him he ushered the skeletal warrior down the hall way. As he did he looked around at the slime covered walls that bore down on him, they were covered in small scrawlings and pictures of beasts, some glowed with a magical light that cast a green hue over the rest of the tunnel and made the torch light flicker.

The rocky surface below his feet started to slope downwards, he and his skeletal minion were going deeper into the earth, and Mobius could even taste the staleness of the air and the stink of death getting stronger. Suddenly he saw a light up ahead and with a short, sharp flick of his wand the skeleton ahead of him stopped still, sword drawn. Mobius strained his ears to hear any kind of sound ahead, and in the gloom he heard the sound of chanting and weapons ahead of him.

He had found it at last, the central chamber that Akara had spoken of. He cursed silently under his breath at the thought of that woman ordering his around, not only had she not given him the information he sought over the mutterings of a dark Wanderer but she had made him take this test to prove his worthiness to her. Still, he mustn't complain and with a flick of his wand he summoned the dark energies around him to his mortal body. Slowly skeletal armour wound its way up his legs and arms, protective armour against those that would harm him. As the skeletal armour closed over his face, he took a deep breath and blew out the torch in his hand; he would have to do this in cover of darkness.

Drawing his battered sword in his left hand, he used his right to usher the skeletal warrior forwards. As they grew closer the hold Mobius had over the skeletal minion became harder and harder to control, its undead soul wanting retribution on those that had sent it to its shadowy grave. Finally as the torch light of the demons became stronger he let his minion go, the will powerless to stop its deathly charge. The skeleton let out an unholy shriek and charged around the corner into the screams on demons and other foul beasts.

Mobius waited for the skeleton to get t work, hugging the wall for fear of detection. He could hear the screams of the monsters as the skeleton hacked its way towards a peaceful death. Mobius peered round the corner and saw to his astonishment that the skeleton was holding off not one, but ten of the foul red demons. Looking to the shrine on the far left of the room Mobius spied the leader of these foul beasts. A larger red demon, clad in yellow robes with huge horns protruding from its forehead was wailing commands at his kin and with bursts of magic, bringing the fallen minions back to life around him.

Mobius knew that the skeleton minion could not hold on forever and with a deep breath he ran headfirst into the fray. He leapt over the form of a crouching demon, and charged straight at the shaman standing on the blood covered alter. The demon shaman turned and looked at Mobius charging towards him. Mobius watched as the shaman turned and pointed his knarled staff at his head, with a shriek it let out a bolt of magical energy that blasted towards Mobius's head. He ducked, avoiding the blast as it flew into the floor behind him and sent a shower of rubble into the air.

Mobius thrust his wand forwards, and with a shout sent small dart-like shards flying towards the shaman. Two impacted in the creature's chest, sending it flying backwards off of its altar, its staff sent flying into the air. Mobius quickly launched himself over the altar and with sword in front of him, landed on the creatures exposed chest. The blade slid easily through the demons mystical flesh, and dug its self into the ground beneath the body. Roaring in pain the demon started to flail madly, its claws slashing at Mobius's skeletal armour. And then, with a small shriek the demon slumped dead on the cold earthen floor. Turning to face the room, he saw his skeletal minion chasing after the last of the demons, who at seeing the death of their master had fled deeper into the tunnels.

Mobius turned and looked past the bodies to the dark corner of the room, where a small box glistened in the shadows. Getting up he felt the spell of skeletal armour weakening, and as he walked across the dark cavern the bones turned to dust around him. Reaching the small chest, he bent down and examined the ancient lock, holding it closed. He touched the lock with his wand and with a burst of energy the lock disintegrated. His hands shaking he lifted the lid and stared in awe at the gleam of gold that shone back at him.

Turning he heard the sound of his skeletal warrior coming back down the stone passage, lifting the huge chest he stood and heaved the chest towards the warrior. The skeleton, with outstretched hands grabbed the chest and waited for its master's next command. Mobius turned, and drew a scroll from his belt. Tapping it with his wand, a gate in reality burst into view in front of him. Mobius hated this way of traveling; it had always seemed slightly unnatural in his opinion. It was time to draw his information from Akara and if possible find out where the Dark Wanderer had gone.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter II - The Stink of Death

Mobius stepped out of the shimmering portal and into the dark, rainy sky of the Blood Moors. The Rouge Encampment was little more than a ruin, not much different than the land of swamps where he had traveled from. The rain was, on most occasions bearable, but now as the sky darkened the rain pounded harder and harder on the sodden ground, the light of the flickering campfire slowly dying down.

Ordering his skeletal minion to halt, Mobius rushed through the rain towards the small leather tent where the high Priestess Akara resided. He had never liked the old woman, full of mystery and omens of death and destruction that had grated on Mobius's patience. He flung back the leather awning that covered the entrance and ducked into the warm interior of the tent.

Akara sat with her back to him, her long flowing purple robe ripping as the cold air entered the tent. Mobius stood and waited for the old woman to talk of his presence and the deed he had done by cleansing the cave system in the Blood Moor. "You did well, Death Walker" the ancient voice croaked. "I sensed the cleansing of the cavern from above, you have indeed done us a great service Mobius" She still did not turn.

"I have done your quest woman" shouted Mobius "Now, you will tell me of this Dark Wanderer that plagued this land, and where he has gone" Mobius glared at the back of Akaras head, daring her to turn round and face him.

"I can tell you where the Wanderer has gone, but you will not be pleased" Akara paused, taking a deep, steadying breath. "He has traveled east towards the ancient city of Lut Gohlein, to seek out his brethren...you will not catch him now" Mobius swore under his breath.

"Then woman, how shall I catch him?" Mobius could feel his temper rising, but decided that her would play this woman's game, and beat her at it if needs be. Akara turned and looked at Mobius through the shadowy veil of her hood. Mobius could feel her eyes boring into his soul and testing his very energy.

"You must defeat Andariel, she was once a great leader in Hell itself but after the Dark Wanderer made his way through our land he left her behind to lay waste to our lands." Mobius listened intently. "But, you are not strong enough yet Mobius...you could not hope to defeat her in your present state"

"Akara! I have taken your words until now, but this is too much" Mobius shouted at the old woman in front of him. "I am at the peak of my powers and will destroy this demon with ease"

"You are too headstrong Mobius, you will never defeat her until your powers are ready and you see the path lain down before you" Akara turned in her seat, again facing away from the aghast Mobius. "Now leave, you are obviously not going to listen to my advice, so you will find your own way through"

Mobius opened his mouth to respond, but sensed the futility of it all. He turned and stalked out of the tent, ripping the leather awning from its pegging and cursing under his breath. As he crossed the sodden ground towards the safety of his own tent he heard someone running behind him. Looking back he saw a young, but powerful woman heading towards him, covered in blood fresh from some battle in the wilderness.

As she got closer he saw that it was the Kashya, a strong Amazon woman who had seen many moons of battles. She stumbled towards him and grabbed his black robes. "Mobius, you must come quick your patrol was caught in a battle around the Burial Grounds to the east and we need your assistance, no one else will come" Mobius looked at her, and saw the desperation in her face.

"What of your Rouge warriors, where are they?" Mobius said, in his mind he knew he didn't want to do this.

"Some were slain, but the others are keeping the undead back from the moor...come Mobius we need your help!" Kashya turned and sprinted away into the gloom towards a glimmering light that could only have been a Portal gate. Turning Mobius sighed, he reached into his tent and grabbed a rusted sword from his assortment of items strewn across the tent floor and chased after her towards the fading light of the portal, and he knew this was a bad idea.

Mobius stumbled out of the portal as it snapped shut behind him with a sound like thunder. His skeletal warrior had already shambled through and was drawing its rusted sword from its rotten belt. Ahead Mobius saw the Rouges at the front of a set of large iron gates that marked the entrance to the forsaken graveyard. Drawing the rusted sword from his belt Mobius threw it to the ground and tried to remember the spell for crafting Iron. He was interrupted as he heard a scream from the gate and saw a massive undead figure ripping its way through helpless Rouge. Turning his attention back to the sword and trying to ignore the screams of battle he muttered the magic spell under his breath and watched as the sword started to manifest itself.

The Golem twisted and turned the metal of the sword, crafting bladed arms and spikes from what had been a rusty blade. It roared a hollow roar as the transformation was completed and rose to its full height dwarfing Mobius and his skeletal minion. Mobius raised his wand in the direction of the bloody combat and with a flick of his wand sent the newly manifested Golem towards the Undead. Maybe, Mobius thought, this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Mobius chased after the Golem, his minion close on his heels watching for attackers. He watched as the golem smashed into the lines of the Rouges and pushed them aside before bringing its bladed arms down on the torso of an unfortunate zombie. Mobius followed in the Golems wake as it smashed its way through the mass of bodies, letting off blasts of magic from his wand at the blurs of monsters on either side of him. Suddenly out of nowhere a blast rocked him from his feet and sent Mobius sprawling across the ground into a crumbling gravestone. Looking up, covered in mud he saw a red armored figure relaxing its grip on a gnarled bow and laughing manically.

No-one seemed to have noticed Mobius falling into the gravestones, he looked from side to side and saw the Rouges and his Golem stuck in combat too busy to look round and see Mobius in the dirt as the figure of Blood Raven stalked towards him across the graveyard. As she got closer, Mobius lifted his right had to blast her with magic, only to find that his ancient wand was no longer there. Snarling Mobius jumped to his feet and drew his sword from his belt. He wasn't going down without a fight.

Blood Raven drew closer as Mobius readied himself for the eventual charge. But just as Mobius brought his sword into a defending position Blood Raven stopped and raised her bow, a fiery arrow readied and aimed at him. The twang of the bow seemed a distant sound to Mobius as he saw the arrow flying towards him, he brought his sword up in the vain attempt to block the arrows path and closed his eyes. But, the stabbing pain never came.

Opening his eyes Mobius gazed with awe at the situation ahead of him. Yet again the skeletal minion had saved his life, jumping in the way of the flaming arrow as it had sped towards him. Now, wreathed in flames the minion stalked towards Blood Raven, who in alarm had started firing wildly at the undead soldier. As Mobius's minion grew closer he saw Blood Raven trip over a collapsed Gravestone and fall to the floor. The skeleton was now on top of her and with a unholy scream of agony he heard saw the minion drive its humble blade into the flailing body of Blood Raven. It was over.

The rain slowed as the Rouges drew their weapons from the undead corpse around them. Mobius's Golem started to clatter to the ground, the magical energies fading from the surroundings. His skeletal minions bones burnt brightly on the charred corpse of Blood Raven, at least now it would have a peaceful death. Staring around Mobius saw Kashya walking towards him, bloodied but confident. She held in her hand Mobius's wooden wand, dirty but never the less intact. "Necromancer, we found your wand amongst the graves...we thought that you had died" Kashya held out her hand as Mobius snatched it from her unworthy hands.

"I thank you Kashya" Mobius uttered in contempt, he could sense that she was finding glee in watching him fail, she had never liked his appearance in the encampment a few days before. "Now the small matter of my reward?"

Kashya grinned. "It's not over yet Necromancer" she turned and pointed in the direction of a shattered stone building, its gates flung open to the elements. "There are still more undead to kill before you shall claim your reward"

Mobius looked into the darkness of the crypt entrance and sighed under his breath, yet another thankless and pointless task that would get him no nearer to finding the path of the Dark Wanderer. Still, shouldering his woes, Mobius flicked his wand and watched as three undead bodies suddenly burst into life, dark energy flowing once again around him. Turning to face Kashya and the shocked Rogues Mobius smiled and whispered "Well them, in that case let's go hunting."

Tales of Diablo

Chapter III - The Scroll

Mobius stalked the forest floor, the moonlight shadows flickering between in the ancient trees and creaking in the twisting winds. At his side, his bodyguard Emilia kept her bow ready watching the darkness for any kind of movement in the depths of the forest. Mobius kept his wand held high, his left hand gripping the leather of his rusty short sword. Nothing was going to stop him from finding the scroll.

After his triumphant return from the graveyard, Mobius had been followed everywhere by Emilia. She had kept by his side for over a week now, constantly watching over him. Mobius didn't mind it, it's just that he preferred to work alone, and sensed that Emilia wasn't just there to protect him, but keep an eye on what he was doing when he left the camp site.

Mobius grimaced and focused back on his task. Again Akara had sent him on a thankless task, to rescue a man called Deckard Cain from the ruins of the Ancient city of Tristram. She had been sharp with Mobius when they met, avoiding his persistent questions about Diablo and the way East to Lut Gholien. Still, at least Cain may be able to shed some light on the situation at hand and direct him where Akara was not. All Mobius needed to do was find the Tree where the scroll was hidden, it was meant to be huge he couldn't imagine he would miss such an object in the forest.

As Mobius and Emilia stalked through the forest, Emilia suddenly stopped and knelt to the ground dragging Mobius down with her. "What is it woman?" breathed Mobius, his fury getting the better of him. Emilia said nothing, and pointed into the darkness at a faint light glowing from behind a fallen log. Mobius strained his eyes and peered at the faded light, picking out giant shapes surrounded by smaller quicker creatures. "Cursed Fallen" muttered Mobius, they flooded this land and were a constant pain; they did however make excellent corpses for experiments.

Mobius felt Emilia's hand slip from his leather armour and as he turned he saw her disappear into the undergrowth to his left. She did this every time they encountered an enemy, always going off to find a hiding place or sniper position. Mobius shook his head, whatever happened to hand to hand combat. Getting up, he reached into his pockets and found what he was looking for. He pulled three human bones from his pocket and threw them to the leave strewn ground. Whispering an incantation beneath his breath the bones shattered and started to form into the remains of human soldiers, a silent scream echoing from their broken bodies. Mobius smiled, this would be fun.

Emilia crouched behind a rotten log, her bow ready, arrow notched and ready for the kill. She peered over the log at the huge tree ahead of her. Kashya had warned her of the monsters that roamed this place, but none were as fearsome looking as the beast that stood before her in the moonlight. The beast was nearly as tall as the ancient oaks that filled the forest, its whole body covered in shaggy, matted hair and its face bore the curses of the years it had spent in the desolate forest. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mobius walking towards the clearing, three skeletons leading the way towards the tree. She heeded her master's orders. "Keep Mobius alive, we need him Emilia". Getting up, she whispered a prayer to the god of the forest and leapt over the log, there was most defiantly going to be blood shed tonight.

Mobius trampled the autumn leaves into the mud beneath his feet; ahead he saw the beast that blocked him from his prize. The shaggy beast turned and looked towards him and with a deafening roar pointed its huge arms towards the puny human defiling his sacred grove. Mobius smirked and pointed his wand at the beast, his skeletons springing into action diving headfirst into the mass of Fallen minions shielding the mighty beast. Mobius blasted aside a leaping minion as it screamed towards him, the force of the blast ripping it clean in two. Lunging forwards he charged at the huge beast in front of him, as it too lumbered forwards a look of pure hatred on its knarled face.

The two collided, Mobius ducking under the huge arms of the beast, thrusting upwards with his sword. The beast's hind however, repelled the blade and as Mobius ducked under the beasts legs it grabbed his outstretched limbs with an iron grip. Mobius was dragged into the air, his sword falling from his grip. Staring down he saw the angry beasts glowing eyes and its huge mouth open, rows of rotten teeth glaring back at him. Looking vainly around he saw his skeletons systematically hacking their way through the fallen, but however much Mobius tried he couldn't wrestle control of them, the trees mystical energies blocking his own. The giant beast roared and lowered him closer to its open maw, Mobius kicked against the iron grip on his leg trying to force the beast to let go.

Then suddenly Mobius felt something flash past his head. Looking back he saw Emilia, bow drawn a look of anger on her delicate features. He had never seen her look so angry. Flicking his view back, he saw the arrow that had left her bow lodged in the beast eye. It was trying in vain to pull the arrow out, waving Mobius around like a rag-doll. Mobius heard another arrow whiz past his head and thud into the beasts other eye. The beast immediately dropped Mobius, clawing at its face huge drops of blood crashing to the floor. Mobius landed in a heap, his legs twisting awkwardly as he crumpled to the floor. Looking up he saw yet another arrow fly into the creatures hulking form, this time puncturing the beasts neck. The gigantic shaggy beast gurgled, its huge form rocking backwards until suddenly its legs gave out and the beast slammed into the hard earth.

The Fallen screamed as one, and scattered into the forest around the clearing, Mobius's skeletons leaping after them, drawn by the scent of death. Mobius sat up, his legs and head bleeding steadily. He looked round and saw Emilia walk towards him, a look of terror on her face. She quickly sat down and pulled a pouch of herbs from her robes, trying to press them on the wounded area. Mobius batted her hand away, snarling at her. "If I needed your help woman, I would have asked for it" Emilia looked strangely at him. "I said, go and find something else to do!!" Mobius screamed. Emilia stood and grabbed her bow from the dusty ground, glaring at him she turned and walked into the darkness of the forest, throwing the herbs to the floor.

Mobius sighed and tried to stand. His legs were starting to feel better, and the bleeding had stopped from his forehead. He stood uneasily and hobbled towards the huge tree. Reaching it he ran his hand over the ancient wood, thousands of years of knowledge and power locked within the trees knarled bark. He found a large hole in the side of the tree, and plunged his hand into it. The tree groaned and above him the ancient tree swayed and creaked. Mobius grabbed a cylindrical object from the hole and pulled it out quickly. Clearing the blood from his eyes, Mobius gazed at the scroll case in his hand. The scripture was bound within an old oak case, clasped at the ends with golden trees, that even old, looked as good as new in the fading light. Trembling he clicked the ends of the case and the oak sprang open to reveal the ancient parchment within.

Mobius laughed and looked to the moonlit sky above, now he would find this Cain, and make sure Akara pointed him in the right direction. And even if she did not, the town of Tristram would surely harbor some treasures that a wandering Necromancer could make use of.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter IV - TRistram

Mobius slammed the ancient scroll down on the table in front of Akara. Still, the woman did not respond to his anger. Mobius felt desperation rising inside of him and his grip on his wand tightened as he watched the old woman staring blankly at the scroll in front of her. "Here, I found you scroll Akara. Now where is this ancient stone circle you spoke of during our last...meeting?"

Akara stared at him "It would do you well not to get angry Mobius" Akara's voice creaked, years of destruction and death hidden within the very words she spoke. "You will soon find that you will have wasted your strength on small matters like myself and left nothing for those that truly deserve it" Out of her robes, a knarled hand, pale as snow, reached out and grasped the decaying scroll in front of her. Slowly she unfurled it and examined closely the language that adorned the aging material.

Mobius waited, he could feel the anger still boiling in the pit of his stomach. But, sensing the futility of it all he buried his feelings and watched the old woman slowly reading the scroll. "So, what does it say...where is this Tristram you spoke of?"

Akara turned and looked at Mobius. "It is defiled by the very creatures that roam our fair forests Mobius, you should be wary when you access its ruins. Diablo has left the town void of life, and left many others in his path, creatures you would be clever to avoid if you do find your way in." She stood and handed the scroll back to Mobius. "Touch the stones in this order" She drew a rudimentary stone circle on the page and numbered them in order. "Now go, I'm sure Emilia is waiting for you. She will have the Way gate you need to find the circle."

She turned and walked to the shadows at the back of her tent. Mobius stuffed the scroll into his robes and stalked out into the rainy gloom of the encampment. Sure enough as he looked to the waypoint erected at the far end of the camp, he saw Emilia waiting, talking with Kashya about something. Mobius sighed and grabbed his ingredients bag from his now decidedly empty chest. Only a few bones and herbs remained, barely enough to conjure a simple skeleton. With his sword in one hand and wand in another Mobius readied himself for what he was about to witness and walked towards the opening way gate.

Dorn sat on the rocky outcrop over looking the huge spires of stone that jutted from the rugged landscape of the Stony Fields. In his hands he held a huge axe, covered with skulls and trinkets from battles past, runes and gems glowing from the very core of the weapon. Resting the giant weapon he pulled a small looking glass from his belt and focused on the shimmering way gate that opened down in the fields below. He watched as a thin woman stepped cautiously out of the portal, followed by a larger robed figure bearing all the hall marks of a Necromancer. Frowning Dorn slipped the looking glass into his belt and leapt down from the rocky outcrop. If his master was right, this man could give Dorn access to Tristram and his awaiting prize.

Dorn crouched closer, hiding behind a rotten log surrounding the ancient stones. Even he, a humble warrior could feel the mystical energies of this place swirling from everything around him. Looking closely he saw the two adventurers doing something with the stones, touching them in order and watching them suddenly glow with an eerie fire.

He waited for almost half an hour, as the necromancer and his companion examined and activated the stones, until suddenly the last one was finished and the entire circle became engulfed in bright light. When Dorn opened his eyes, the pair had vanished, through a huge portal that now filled the stone circle. Dorn leapt over the log, and with a quick look to the left and right, sprinted towards the swirling way gate.

With a snap like thunder, the way gate closed behind him. Dorn landed on his knees on something crisp. Looking down he saw the grass around him scorched and burnt, and smelt an all too familiar smell on the air, that of burning flesh. Reaching down and grabbing his axe he looked up at the scene around him. He found himself in a back alley of a ruined town. The buildings were burnt and blackened, with dark stains of blood covering the walls that remained intact. Walking cautiously down the alley he looked left and right for any sign of the two adventurers he had been following.

Reaching the end of the alley, he looked out on a small town square. The fountain spewed forth black water, which slicked over everything around it, seeping out of the cracks and tricking over the cobbled street. Beyond it he saw a huge wooden structure, a cage dangling from a tattered rope and underneath it the two adventurers struggling with a large knot. Dorn's ears pricked up, the sound of footsteps was echoing in the alley behind him. Risking a look behind he saw a gang of figures shambling towards him, undead.

Mobius touched the aging rope with his wand, and blasted the knot to pieces, yet still the wooden cage did not fall. He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and looking round he saw Emilia pointing back towards the alley they had arrived from. Standing he saw a huge man, covered in tattoos leaping over the rubble towards them, a massive axe in his hands. Mobius looked cautiously at Emilia, who was yet to raise her bow. She kept a hand on Mobius's robes and stopped him from advancing on the man.

Mobius shouted at the man, who was nearly upon them. "Who are you warrior?" He could feel the worry in his voice. The man stopped in front of them, looked quickly at Emilia standing beside him and then stared at Mobius.

"There will be time for that later Necromancer, now we must deal with the here and now" His deep voice spoke with confidence and power, and his dark eyes bored into Mobius's very soul.

There meeting however, was cut short. Crashes behind them made the massive man swing round and ready his axe. A giant man, covered in blood with a large cut crossing his face smashed his way out of a burning building. With a low roar, hundreds of undead spilled out of the debris strewn buildings wreathed in flames.

Mobius readied himself, grabbing four bones from his now empty pouch. To his right Emilia had notched an arrow, while in front the warrior grasped his axe as the runes glowed within it.

The monstrous man walked out into the cobbled square. "Those who trespass in the town of Tristram shall never see the light of day again" With a silent order from the man, the undead advanced.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter V - Dark Eyes

Estaban sat down heavily in his gargantuan oaken chair. His aging hair fell over his worn features, ages of battle and hardship etched into his once youthful skin. He gripped the staff in his right hand, feeling the magical energies flowing back and forth through his body. Around him, the black marble stones were covered in a mass of papers and books, thousands of volumes penned by the greatest masters of the realm. The aging mage had been trying in vain to find a solution to a vital question that had been playing on his mind for many, many years.

Stroking his white beard, he stood and walked to the slatted windows that adorned the edges of his tower. Gazing out he looked on the forests that carpeted the earth around him. At certain places, the trees were brown and aging and others bore no sign of life at all. This was all part of the omens that Estaban had been watching and learning about for many years. The legend of Diablo and the three evils was one that many people disregarded as myth and folk law but Estaban knew that he couldn't be complacent, and the many sightings of demons over the past year or so heralded the greatest battle that the world had ever seen.

Turning back Estaban walked and picked up a small golden book that lay open on the marble floor. Suddenly he remembered a certain page that had been bugging him for many days. Flicking quickly through the book he found the page that he had been looking for. Holding the book up to the dim torchlight he looked at the complex diagram and ancient writing that covered its pages. Puzzled he reached into his pocket for a pair of small round spectacles and perched them on the bridge of his nose. Peering at the drawings, he suddenly realized that the answer had been staring him in the face all along.

Dropping the book to the floor with a crash, Estaban walked quickly to a pair of huge carvings that covering the far end of the room. The two carvings took the guise of a pair of towering dragons, with dark rubies pressed into the sockets of their eyes. Each of the dragon's tails pointed to a central point on the wall, and where the forked ends met a small blue crystal was caught between them. Estanban reached the wall and touched the small blue crystal with the end of his wooden staff. Slowly a portal emerged from the space between the two dragons, just big enough for the mage to step through. Wrapping his huge cloak around his face tightly, and gripping the staff in his hands he stepped quickly through the shimmering portal.

The portal snapped shut behind him, and a chilled wind snapped at Estabans exposed hands. Looking around, he saw that he had arrived at his intended destination. The snowy rocks around him were covered in small runes, and looking over the side of the mountain at the ground below Estaban saw a small castle nestled in between the huge sides of a deep valley. Warming his hands with a quick breath of hot air, Estaban turned and walked up the path that was etched into the side of the rock face.

As he walked he heard the whispers of he mountain around him, quiet voices that flittered around him as he battled the harsh winds. Reaching into his pocket Estaban drew out a small stone and clenched it in his hands. He must get this to the top of the mountain and place it within the alter.

An hour of walking later, Estaban reached the crest of the mountains peak and stepped out on to the flat surface. Looking around he saw the golden alter in the middle of the clearing, and around it three statues reaching into the sky with ancient weapons. It had certainly changed since he had last been here when the sky had been a deep orange, and the blood red sun had beamed down on this site of mystical power.

Walking towards the alter; he looked down at the stone in the palm of his hand. He reached the golden plinth and looked for the small socket where the stone should have fitted. Finding it, he slotted the stone into the gap and stood back to watch it work its mystical power. But, nothing happened. Looking down, he saw that three other gaps were covering the alter; someone had removed the other stones before he got here.

Readying his staff he swirled round on the spot and looked back the way he had come. On the path he saw a dark shadow walking towards him, green eyes staring at him from the mass of swirling darkness. As the creature neared he felt a chill strike in his heart and his knees buckled. Falling to the snow he dropped his staff and clutched his chest.

The shadowy figure towered over him and looked down into his weary blue eyes. "Old man, you think you are superior to my master? You have underestimated his cunning and now you shall pay for your stupidity" Reaching down he grasped Estaban by the throat and clenched his fists. Estaban could feel the life force being sucked from his being, and darkness flowed into his mind. His vision faded, and as it enveloped his body the pain subsided…after that, he felt nothing.

Duriel let go of the limp body clasped between his dark fingers. The power of the mage had flowed into every corner of his body and filled him with visions of the now dead mans memories. This was an unfortunate side effect of draining mana from live vessels. Many a time Duriel had been weakened by the human nature of his prey and his long buried emotions surfaced with a vengeance.

Duriel closed his eyes, and shook off the mental images flashing before him. He could not let weakness show in the presence of his master, if he did he could not imagine the pain that he would enact on him...and the hell that awaited him below the cold dead earth. Forcing the emotions down into the depths of his mind Duriel summoned the dark energies that flowed from his being and held up his hand against the chilled stone walls that marked the opening to the ancient fortress buried beneath the mountain.

The shimmering blue gate blasted into existence, the power of the gate cracking the stone and dragging rubble into the void. Duriel looked back at the crippled figure lain down on the snow, his cloak and staff were smoking with an eerie green vapor, and his skin was blackened and cracked. He had to do what his master willed, but he couldn't help feeling that the end couldn't come soon enough. Hardening his resolve he stepped through the portal, and to his awaiting master.

Dorn gritted his teeth and swung his axe again into the huge creature that lumbered around him. Yet again the monster blocked it with a huge arm, the axe biting into the flesh, but not seeming to cause an ounce of pain. Dorn ducked as a huge arm soared towards him and narrowly missed his head. Turning round he saw the Necromancer and his bodyguard trying valiantly to keep off the mass of undead that were swamping into the main square. Dorn knew that they would never be able to hold off this horde for long, and if they were not careful they would never get out.

Striking at the monster bearing down on him, Dorn made the monster cringe in terror. As soon as the creature recoiled, Dorn immediately flung himself round and charged headlong at the towering cage that hung above them. The wood creaked as the huge form of Dorn crashed into it, and as he pushed it the wooden beams started to topple. Suddenly the huge structure buckled under his weight and it came crashing down, smashing aside the undead.

Mobius turned quickly as he heard the huge tower collapse to the ground. The barbarian was atop the wreckage, using one hand to hold off the now furious monster, while also helping an old man to his feet. Mobius glanced at Emilia to his right, who nodded with confirmation. Mobius ran to the old man, now creeping away from the furious combat between the barbarian and the monster. "Deckard Cain, you must leave now!" Mobius cried, and with a flick of his wand summoned a portal in the midst of combat. Cain looked into Mobius eyes and with a slight nervous smile of thanks ran as fast as his legs would carry him into the shimmering blue light.

Twisting round, Mobius looked to his two companions who were still fighting against the many undead. "We must flee, Barbarian, Emilia quickly before the portal shuts!" Mobius yelled as the battle raged around him. The Barbarian took a last massive swing at the monstrous man in front of him and sprinted towards the open portal. Emilia launched a last arrow at the screaming undead and ran as quick as she could towards the shimmering blur in reality.

Suddenly, as the Barbarian stepped through the open portal the lumbering monster smashed into the path of Emilia, who was flung like a doll into the rubble of a burning building. Mobius felt his heart stop as he saw her fly through the air and crash into the stone. He tried to run, but a strong hand was wrapped around his left arm. Turning he saw the barbarian glaring at him and with a quick tug Mobius was whipped through the hole in reality.

Duriel stepped out of the portal, and into the dark surroundings of his masters hell realm. The floor was a dark red, with lava flowing between the cracks in the stone. In front of him a huge chair sat in the middle of the room, carved into a mass of monstrous creatures. And in its centre, a man robed in black. Duriel walked forwards and knelt at the bottom of the giant chair. "Master, I have done as you asked." Reaching out, he held open his palm to show the four stones removed from the alter.

"Good, Duriel...you have done well and I shall make sure you are rewarded for your efforts." Drake looked up at his master, his bale green eyes trying to pick out the details in the black of his masters masked face. "You know what must be done Duriel...I trust you will succeed in dealing with Tyrael when the opportunity presents itself."

Tales of Diablo

Chapter VI - Anvils and Blood

The portal snapped shut with a deafening crash and Mobius found himself crumpled in a heap on the cold earthen floor. He stumbled to his feet, brushing the mud and dirt from his black robes. Ahead of him the barbarian was talking with Kashya, Mobius felt his heart jump slightly as he remembered what had happened, and for what? An old, frail man. He walked towards his tent and pulled back the leather awnings. Stepping inside he let it go behind him and threw himself down on the bed of rags at his feet and closed his eyes.

Mobius could feel something shaking him, a strong hand grabbing his shoulder. He kept his eyes closed and embraced the warm darkness, until he heard someone shouting at him to wake. Opening his eyes wearily he recoiled in shock at the huge form of the barbarian towering over him with a grim look on his face. "Come Mobius, Akara awaits us". The barbarian turned and walked towards the exit of the tent.

"Who are you?" Mobius said. "You helped us in Tristram, and yet I do not know your name". The barbarian stopped in the opening and turned slowly.

"I am Dorn, Necromancer. I am truly sorry for your lose". Dorn turned and walked out of the tent leaving Mobius is a state of shock and bewilderment.

Many minutes later, Mobius arrived in the aging and all too familiar surroundings of Akaras tent. Pushing aside the still broken awning he gazed on a rather new scene. Surrounding Akara in the centre of her tent were the familiar faces of Kashya and the barbarian Dorn, and a new face that Mobius did not recognize. There was also someone in shadows, shrouded by the darkness. Mobius walked slowly forwards, as everyone present stared at him, until he reached the centre of the tent.

As soon as he did, Akara spoke from deep within her purple shawl. "Mobius and Dorn retrieved a most important element in our pursuit of Diablo and his stooge Andariel". She stopped and beckoned to the shadows, from which the frail shape of Deckard Cain emerged, still looking starved and as deathly as he did in Tristram. Akara waited a second before continuing in a very commanding tone. "Cain will help us uncover what has happened deep within the monastery, and aid you Mobius in whatever way you wish" Mobius looked directly at the floor, paying more than due attention to his tatty leather boots.

Akara continued. "This however will require both you Mobius, and you Dorn to find something of great importance, Charsi will tell you more." Mobius looked up at the face he didn't recognize. A blond woman, with the build to equal Dorn stood confidently and began to speak.

"Hi, I'm Charsi." Her voice however was unnaturally high and her confident stance was shaken by her nervous voice. "As most of you will know the monastery guards the exit from the Tamoe Highlands and the way to Lut Gholien" At this she hinted towards Mobius, who continued to gaze plainly into the distance. "Well...err...anyway, when I left the monastery I left behind a great hammer that could be used by us to create a weapon to slay Andariel beneath the monastery catacombs"

Mobius listened intently as Charsi went into detail on the wear-abouts of the hammer and the deadly Blacksmith that guarded it since the infestation by the demons. Suddenly mid-sentence he interrupted Charsi. "You want me to risk my life again in this god forsaken place...for a hammer?" Charsi had stopped, looking shocked, while Akara and Cain stared on disapprovingly. He felt a strong hand on his arm, and Dorn dragged him out of the tent and into the howling rain.

"Mobius, why would you not help these people, they have done much for you and now is the time to return the favor." Mobius hung his head, the rain streaming through his white hair.

"I don't see the point Dorn, I have more important things to do with my studies than help a band of homeless Rouges" Mobius could feel the eyes of Dorn boring through him with a furious anger.

"Mobius, do you not think Emilia had the same thoughts? I'm sure she had other things to do with her life that were better than guarding your sorry soul, but, she upheld her honor and did what was right...you should do the same"

Dorn turned and walked away into the rain leaving Mobius alone in the sheets of rain. Mobius looked down at the wand in his hands and squeezed the wood between his figures. The wand snapped and splintered, falling to the floor around him.

The next morning, Mobius stood at the waypoint in the centre of the camp, satchel on his back, full of ingredients and a sword in his hand. Dorn approached from the other side of the camp, his huge axe on his back and a suit of black amour covering his muscle bound form. As he approached, Mobius saw a smile beneath his black helmet. "What Dorn? Why are you smiling?"

"It is good to see you here Necromancer" Dorn chuckled "I thought you to have a heart of stone". Dorn stepped onto the waypoint and muttered the rune phrase to activate the portal. Mobius smiled nervously and turned face the portal. With a flash of light and a crack of thunder Mobius was pulled from reality.

They landed with a crash on the cold floor of the monastery entrance. Dorn stood quickly, axe in hand and a snarl echoing from his black helmet. Mobius stumbled up to his feet and pulled out two swords from his belt. Dorn looked at him strangely. "Where is your wand Mobius?" Before turning back to the darkness past the broken oak doors...

"It doesn't matter Dorn, I still have my powers, now let's get on with this and find the anvil". With the shrieks of demons echoing from the depths of the Church Mobius and Dorn stalked into the dark halls.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter VII - The Blacksmith

Mobius crept quietly through the darkening corridors, as the sun disappeared behind the hills outside. The blood red light poured into the monastery barracks giving everything an eerie hue. Gripping his swords firmly he stepped on down the dust covered floors. To his left Dorn was holding his axe in front of him. Mobius could hear him muttering inside his black helmet. "Dorn, please...I'm trying to concentrate" Mobius whispered.

"Mobius, these are ancient prayers...do not dishonor my Gods, I will pray when I want" Mobius could see Dorn tighten the grip on the leather bound wood and knew better than to argue with him, especially in a situation like this one.

They reached the end of the dusty hallway and a pair of giant oaken doors sat before them. Dorn walked forwards and put his equally giant hand on the wood. "This is ancient wood, bestowed with magical runes and enchantments. We will need to break the spells" Dorn looked at Mobius; he could tell that Dorn was hinting at him to do something about it.

"Dorn, has it not dawned on you that perhaps this door was enchanted to keep something in, and not trespassers out?"" Mobius looked at Dorn, the doubt showing in his face.

"Well Mobius...if there is something on the other side of this door, we will fight it. Now open the door so we can leave this accursed place."

Mobius sheathed one of his swords and took the leather glove from his right hand. He raised it to the doors ancient wood and touched it with his pale white hand. Muttering an incantation he felt a heat flowing down his arm and into the door, through his spread fingers. The door started to buckle, the wood aging suddenly around Mobius. The ancient incantations had obviously been keeping the wood young and whole, but now with the spirits of death winding their way into the wood it was aging at a phenomenal rate.

The wood broke as the spirits wound their way into it, creating a hole in the door. Dorn stalked through quickly facing the grim darkness that must have dwelt in that place. Mobius ducked and forced his way through the rotting wood, drawing his sword again. Suddenly, out of the darkness Mobius heard a sharp piercing scream that echoed down the corridors. Dorn growled and sprinted in the direction of the noise. Mobius sprinted after him, following the ear splitting scream that was continuing to pound in his head.

As they ran closer and closer towards the noise, they could hear it clearer. It sounded human, a woman's voice. Spurring himself on Mobius overtook Dorn as they rounded the corner and the place where the scream was emanating. Mobius froze at the scene in front of him. In the middle of a huge forge a massive monster that bore a resemblance to a Minotaur of old stood over an equally massive anvil. Looking closer at the anvil he saw a person lashed with rusty chains to the cold iron surface, a woman dressed in rags a look of horror etched in her face.

The huge monster turned and looked at Mobius and Dorn. It started to laugh manically, its voice shaking the very foundations of the ancient church. "Puny humans, you think you can defeat me?" The Blacksmith lifted a massive hammer from the floor and pointed it at Dorn and Mobius, who were both readying for combat. With another manic laugh the Blacksmith pushed his way past the huge anvil and towards the two adventurers. "I shall make weapons from your bones Barbarian!"

As the massive form of the Blacksmith smashed his way towards them, Mobius whispered a short incantation and watched as his weapons started to glow red. Dorn to his left shouted a roar of defiance and charged headlong towards the massive beast. They clashed with a thunderous roar, Dorn's ancient weapon clashing into the demonic hammer of the Blacksmith. Again and again the two combatants smashed their weapons together, both hoping to find a chink in the flurry of attacks. Mobius ran quickly towards the combat and leapt as the huge hammer whizzed past his head and into Dorn who promptly blocked it. Readying his swords, Mobius lunged for the exposed stomach of the beast. The swords stabbed into the creature, which let out a roar of pain.

Reaching down the Blacksmith grabbed Mobius round the waist with a massive clawed hand and threw him across the forge room. With a clatter Mobius smashed into the blackened walls and landed in a heap on the floor. His back ached and he could feel something warm under his leather armor. Dorn meanwhile was still holding off the flurry of attacks from the huge monster. The Blacksmiths hammer was clashing into Dorn's axe attack after attack. Dorn blocked time and time again until suddenly the Blacksmith slowed and raised his hammer in the air to crush Dorn.

Dorn saw his chance. He lifted his axe and sliced into the stomach of the beast. The runic blade howled as it cut deep into the Blacksmith, the runes burning as they seared the demonic flesh of the beast. Leaving the axe in the beast's stomach, Dorn drew a pair of axes from his belt and aimed at the beasts head. He flung them quickly at the Blacksmith, the axes spinning in the air until they thudded into the beast head digging deep into its skull. The beast rocked on its tree like legs and toppled backwards towards the howling fire in the corner of the forge. The beast seared as it crashed into the red hot flames, a hollow scream echoing from the fallen corpse as the powers of hell drew him back into his master's realm.

Mobius tried to stand; he could feel the blood seeping from the wound in his side. Reaching into his pouch he drew out a bottle of blood red liquid. Quickly he downed the potion, and felt the cut in his side knitting back together, a pain searing from his side as the potion took effect. Looking up he saw Dorn standing over the remains of the Blacksmith, a small hammer in his hands. "Mobius, I found the Malus...we should go".

Mobius stood uneasily and gazed at the anvil in front of him. The woman's body lay still, the cuts and slashes in her body obviously taking their toll. Stumbling towards Dorn, Mobius reached into his pouch and pulled out a scroll to get them back to the rouge encampment. Suddenly, as Mobius stumbled closer to Dorn, he felt something moving underneath his feet. Looking down, he saw the paved floor shudder the black bricks splitting under the pressure of something beneath the ground. He looked quickly at Dorn, who was equally uneasy.

As soon as Mobius tried to move the ground groaned and a massive hole opened up in the ground. Dorn suddenly disappeared through the floor; Mobius stumbled forwards and looked down into the black hole. He could see Dorn hanging on to the rubble, a massive abyss below him. Mobius tried to reach down and grab his massive arms, but suddenly a massive quake shook the ground and Mobius felt himself flung through the air and into the abyss below him. Above him, Dorn was still hanging to the rubble, but as he fell Dorn was consumed by the darkness around him. Suddenly he blacked out, he felt his grip on reality failing.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter VIII - The Grim Demon

Mobius lay in the darkness; he could feel his bones aching. He had fallen for a long time in the darkness. The next thing he knew he was lain down on a pile of rubble, his body bruised and battered blood trickling from his nose and mouth. He could hear something in the darkness around him, but he couldn't move his neck to see what it was. It sounded like claws, or paws. Whatever it was, he didn't want to let it know he was here, so he'd been keeping quiet for what seemed like hours.

The claws suddenly started coming closer. Mobius closed his eyes and waited for what was going to be a gruesome death. But, the end never came. Opening his eyes he looked into the face of what was unmistakably a Fallen, the small demon glared down at him, its yellowing teeth spread in a wide grin. With a short chatter, it summoned its brethren to its side. Mobius watched as around a dozen Fallen surrounded his aching body. They moved towards him and grabbed his broken limbs. The Fallen lifted him, shooting pain blasted through Mobius's body as they forced him to stand on his broken legs. The pain grew and grew until he could take it no more. Mobius felt the darkness flooding into his vision again...he fainted as the Fallen dragged him away.

Mobius gasped, damp air being sucked into his burning lungs. A strange sensation flowed over his skin, heat like he'd never felt it before. Looking down at his hands, he saw the same pale skin looking back at him, but it no longer hurt to move his fingers. His legs felt better too, and yet looking around, he was still deep beneath the earth, the corridors all looked the same design as the barracks above, but with a more subterranean feel to them. The walls were covered in moss and water dripped from the ceiling. He pushed himself up, and stood uneasily on the black stone floor. He went to draw his sword from his belt, and found that all of his belongings had been taken from him; it must have been his demonic captors. What puzzled Mobius was the reason why they had not killed him.

Suddenly, as Mobius pondered his luck a thunderous pounding started from the corridor to his right. Stumbling forwards he looked down the long hallway, and at its end he saw a monstrous sight. A massive creature nearly ten foot in height was pounding its way down the hallway towards him. It had the body and look of a woman, with a mane of flaming red hair covering its shoulders, and on its back were a pair of massive clawed limbs. This was obviously the demon Andariel that Akara had spoken of. The demon lumbered forwards and stood over Mobius. She smiled, showing rows of sharp white teeth and started to speak in a deep booming voice.

"Necromancer, I see you are feeling better now." Anadariel knelt down in the hallway and stared into Mobius's eyes.

"What do you want with me" Mobius growled, he could sense that Andariel had a hidden agenda beneath just toying with him.

"Necromancer you have little faith, but yes I do want you to perform a certain...favor for me." Andariel's eyes closed to slits, and she bore her teeth yet again.

"I want nothing to do with you demon, you shall have to kill me before I do anything for you" Mobius frowned and strengthen his resolve.

"Well, in that case...I shall have to get rid of you Necromancer. It seems a pity that one of your talent and skill should die so young." Andariel stood and started to turn away.

Mobius stared past her hulking form and down the hallway from which she had come. At the end of it he saw a large man walking towards Mobius and the demon. Squinting he saw that it was Dorn, alive and well. In his right hand he held his runic axe, while in the left he held a bloodied head of a fallen warrior. Mobius knew he had to keep Andariel talking so that Dorn could take her out from behind. Plucking up the courage Mobius shouted as loud as he could muster.

"ANDARIEL...I will hear you plan!" Mobius waited as he watched the huge demon stop, and turn slowly back to look at him.

"Good, I am glad that you changed your mind necromancer...will you hear my plan?" Andariel bent down again and looked at Mobius at eye level.

"Indeed demon, whatever plan you have...I will take on." Mobius looked quickly to the left and past Andariel's body. Behind her Dorn was creeping ever closer, his axe now held in two hands ready to strike.

"Necromancer, I wish you to...awkkk" Andariel's eyes suddenly opened in anguish, and she let out a scream of pain.

She rose up, smashing into the wall and ceiling, sending rubble flying around the confined hallway. Mobius ducked under her swinging limbs as she tried to get at what had wounded her. Looking up he saw Dorn hanging on to his axe which was embedded deep in her flesh. Andariel grabbed at her back, clutching Dorn in her knarled figures and flinging him down the hallway towards a collapsed wall. Mobius watched as Dorn clattered into the wall, and fell limp. Looking back up at the towering monster Mobius looked for a weapon of some kind to use. Andariel walked over to him and towered above Mobius who was scrambling around in the dirt for something with a blade.

"Puny human...you think that an axe and a poor necromancer can defeat me?" She lifted her clawed limbs on her back forwards and pinned Mobius too the wall with the sharp blades at the ends. Mobius looked up, terror filling his heart. Andariel's giant maw came closer, her rows and rows of white teeth bared and ready to close around his head. Suddenly, blood stared to trickle from her mouth. Mobius looked up puzzled. Her face was contorted in pain, her eyes draining of the blood flame and turning black. As the grip of her claws loosened on Mobius's shoulders and her body started to fall to the ground, he could see Dorn, bloodied and bruised atop her back, a short sword in his hands, dug deep into her skull.

As her form collapsed to the ground, Dorn leapt from her back, drawing his axe from her back as he went. He landed awkwardly on the ground and used his axe to steady himself. He grinned uneasily at Mobius before collapsing to his knees. Mobius crawled across the floor towards him, in his ears he could hear the click on claws on the rock as the Fallen in the catacombs rushed to their mistress's aid. Dorn held out a hand to Mobius, a scroll clutched in his hands. Mobius hurried to unfurl it and read quickly to open the warp gate back to the camp.

The blue light blasted into existence and engulfed Mobius and the bloodied Dorn as the monsters clattered towards them down the many corridors.

With a snap, the way gate opened and Mobius and Dorn flew through the air, landing awkwardly on the cold hard ground of the camp. Mobius could feel rain pattering on his face; he had never realized how much he loved the rain until now. Looking to his left, he saw Dorn groaning his axe held tightly in his hands, a huge cut across his side. Mobius sighed, "Dorn, did I ever tell you how glad I am you know how to use that axe?" Laughing he looked at Dorn face, which cracked into a small smile.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter IX - The City and the Guardian

"So there you have it" Mobius said quietly. He sat back on the wooden seats on the cart and stared at the stunned face of Warriv who had completely forgotten that he was meant to be driving the cart. Mobius smiled behind his white hair. Warriv gulped and tried to say something, but though better of it. He turned and grabbed the reigns of the cart muttering something about "strangers and demons" before spurring his horse on.

Mobius twisted the wand in his fingers; he'd never forget when he'd been given the ancient wand by Akara for vanquishing the demon Andariel. Thinking back, he hadn't really deservered it since Dorn had done basically all of the work. After their little adventure in the catacombs Dorn had spent many weeks recovering from his injuries. The demons claws had caused a lot more damage than Mobius had originally thought. Eventually after nearly a month in bandages Dorn had just disappeared in the night, leaving behind only the Horodric Malus and his broken armor.

It was a pity, Mobius thought. He was a good fighter and possibly a good person to have in the baking deserts of Lut Gholein. Looking back at Warriv he saw the lights of Lut Gholein stretched out across the sand. Flames flickering in the wind of the desert night. Still, it was a long way away even now, another day or so of traveling. Sitting back against the wooden back of the cart he pondered what he was going to have to do in the desert. Akara had said that he should seek out a man called Drognan in the market place of the ancient city. Apparently he would know exactly what to do in tracking down Diablo.

Laying down he closed his eyes and let the cold night air breeze around him. He would deal with whatever came at him in his own time. Now he just had to take in the last hours of possible rest he would ever get in his whole life. Lut Gholein seemed a distant concept at the moment.

Duriel stooped at his master's feet. He could feel the demonic eyes of his master boring into his mind. "Duriel...you have failed me again. You could not instruct Andariel in her endeavors and she is now banished back into the depths of hell. If you fail me again, you shall feel the same anguish as she did". Duriel shuffled uneasily. "Now, you shall go with me and wait in the tomb of Tal Rasha...but you will now be under by direct control"

Duriel felt something burning at the ends of his limbs. A fleshy pulp was winding its way up his shadowy limbs and winding its way around his body. Duriel could feel himself screaming in silent pain as a hellish helmet closed around his face, restricting his breath and forcing him to buckle in terror. His legs were transformed into a hulking mass of flesh, with a dozen legs breaking out of his sides. His back started to mutant too, a hard armored shell solidifying around his body and forming a sheet of bony armor. Duriel tried to reach for his face, but found his arms turned into a pair of scything claws, covered in blood and formed from hellish bone.

"You are now mine to control Duriel...my pet". The mysterious master laughed manically and watched as Duriel screamed in unholy pain.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter X - The Lords Legacy

Drognan sat in his carved wooden armchair. On his many travels he had picked up many different items of value, and he always loved looking for items that he could sell on later in the market streets of Lut Gholein. He had acquired this particular chair in a small town in the depths of the Jungle surrounding Kurast. The bazaar there was famous for its wonderful selections of fine wood carvings and antiques. The many temples in the jungle were full of ancient artefacts that sold for huge amounts of gold on the open market and indeed in more illegal circles too.

He reached down and picked up the small papyrus letter that he had received only yesterday. Akara had highlighted the situation after the great demon Andariel's fall, and that at some point in the next week Drognan should expect a visit from the adventurer who had defeated her. The name Mobius rung a bell in Drognan's mind, but he hadn't been able to place it since he had received the letter. Still, he didn't have to worry yet. It would be another few days before the adventurer arrived.

The lord of Lut Gholein, Jheryn had been in a worse and worse state ever since last night. Drognan had arrived at his palace with the news that the lord of terror Diablo had been seen in the deserts surrounding the city. Worse still, Jheryn revealed in a shaking terror that deep within the cellars of the palace, something had been killing guards over the past week. They disappeared with no warning, taken from their patrols leaving no sign of combat behind. Drognan had contemplated this for many hours in the darkness of his house. It was defiantly a sign that things were going to get worse. As well as this, his lunar watching had revealed that in a few days an eclipse would engulf the sky and cause a period of chilling night for at least a week. This had been strange, Drognan had not seen this until two days ago, until then there had been no sign of any astrological phenomena for at least the next three years.

He could feel his eye lids drooping as the night started to seep into his study. The candles were almost burnt down, and it was getting hard for Drognan to see anything he was reading. Since he had turned sixty five he had never been able to see very well, having to rely on a pair of glasses he had found in Kurast, he wasn't that sure that they were helping his eyes, since he always had headaches after wearing them. Giving up on his research Drognan stood and put the candles out with a hiss of his fingers on the wick. He would have to continue this tomorrow, for now he wanted to sleep.

Mobius woke quickly; above him Warriv was shaking him awake. The sun suddenly seemed hotter, and Mobius felt the pain of the light in his eyes. "Mobius, we are here. There is someone who wants to speak to you quickly." Mobius rested on his elbows and looked over the side of the cart. Around him, women dressed in shawls were carrying water and other packages. While huge stalls were manned by men shouting in a foreign language selling brightly coloured spices and clothing. Looking round he saw a man walking towards them, surrounded by men wielding pikes, covered in strong plate armour and red cloth.

The man walked towards them confidently and stopped before Mobius who had stood and jumped from the cart. "Hello Necromancer, my name is Jheryn and I am the lord of Lut Gholein. I hope you will give me the honour of joining me in my palace for something to eat and so we can talk over the…problem that we are having in my fair city." He stood to the side and gestured for Mobius to walk with him. Mobius obliged him and walked slowly at his side towards a towering structure that dominated the city sky line.

"Not to be rude Lord Jheryn, but I am not sure what, or who I need to see here in your city." Mobius looked at Jheryn with a sideways glance, and the young lord smiled back.

"Do not worry Mobius. We have a man that can help with anything you need done. His name is Drognan, a wise man and an old friend. After we have eaten I will take you to his house and we can talk." Jheryn smiled again and reached into his pocket drawing out a stringed pouch. As he passed an old man sitting down in the sand he tossed him a gold coin and smiled at the man. "If it was my way, I would not have to give out money. It is a shame that our trade routes with the west have been severed."

They talked for another half an hour, walking slowly through the shady streets of the city towards the domed structure of Jheryn's palace. Eventually they reached the polished white steps of the palace. Inside Mobius gazed at the marble pillars and lavish furniture that decorated the interior of the palace. Jheryn lead him up a winding staircase at the back of the palace ground floor that opened out on to a very different scene. The upper floor looked plain and the walls were no longer covered in the murals from downstairs. Mobius turned and saw Jheryn smiling at him.

"The lower floors are a mere consequence of the history of the palace. My father was a little different too me when deciding on the way to run this city." Jheryn motioned to a seat in the corner of the room. Mobius took it and settled down. "Now, Mobius I will tell you of all that has happened here in the passing weeks up to your arrival." Jheryn relaxed back in a deep cushioned seat and started the story of the Dark Wanderer in his fair city.

After an hour or so Jheryn stopped as three women entered with trays laden with fruit and meats. Mobius looked on hungrily. He hadn't eaten this well for a long time, the last being in the collages of magic where he had learnt his trade. That had never been strictly true, however he looked at it. He had been around twenty when he had first started on learning the lore's of magic. He had been studying the elements and learning the manipulation of fire and ice when one day he found a book in the library deep beneath the school. It had been a strange experience for Mobius. The book not only detailed the use of curses and their effects, but also the way in which to manipulate the dead. Two days later he had been thrown out for accidentally setting a Golem loose in the school which maimed and killed two students. Mobius had never forgotten that.

"Mobius…are you ok?" Jheryn looked strangely at Mobius, who had turned a ghostly grey. Mobius shook himself back into reality and smiled nervously at the lord. He stood and walked towards the staircase. Suddenly as Mobius turned to leave he heard footsteps echoing across the palace hallway below him and up the marble staircase. Looking down he saw a woman running, covered in grime towards him followed by three guards with bemused expressions on their faces. She rammed past Mobius and flung herself to her knees in front of Jheryn. "What is it young woman?" Jheryn knelt by her side and wiped the tears from her dirt covered face.

"It is my husband" the woman cried. "He has been taken from me during the night…a monster came into our house and took him." She continued to cry into her clothes. Jheryn looked past her and Mobius who was still perched above the winding staircase. With a nod of acknowledgement Mobius turned and sprinted down the marble staircase and into the sun baked streets.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XI - The paladin

The giant bell rung clear across the crisp autumn morning. The small churches dominating tower housing the ancient bell. Its walls were made from moss covered stone but the stain glass windows were still bright, depicting ancient battles in the name of the church. Deep within the tower, three monks sheltered beneath dark brown robes rung the bell in whispers and chanting. As they did this a man, wrapped in a ceremonial gown lead another man in armour down the centre of the church, through the pews towards the altar nestled deep in the recesses.

The armoured man knelt down on the flagged stone floor as the gowned man started to chant religious scriptures and blessed the man with holy water from a nearby font. The armoured man knelt there for an hour as the priest blessed him until eventually he stopped and spoke quietly in the warriors ear. The man rose and drew his sword from its scabbard. He kissed the blade and nodded to the priest in front of him, who smiled kindly. The warrior turned and walked quickly from the church, his armoured boots clinking on the stones.

As he walked outside the wind wiped against his face and his cape flew in the wind. He took his helmet from under his arm and placed it on his head. Closing the visor he crossed himself and walked quickly down the stony path towards the horses waiting at the dirt road situated at the bottom of the hill. Jumping on to the horse back quickly and skilfully the warrior whispered in the horse's ear. With a jolt, the horse started to run and within a minute the rider and his horse had disappeared down the valley and into the forest.

He rode for three days straight, through forests, marsh and eventually into the harsh deserts of Aranoch. It was not long until his horse grew weary and the warrior let it return to its grassy plains. From then on he travelled on foot, the sand wiping around him and scarring his armour. But still the man travelled on. Eventually on his tenth day he arrived at the oasis buried deep within the hills of sand and heat. Kneeling tired and blasted by sand he filled his leather skin with water and drank deep from the cool clear water.

Suddenly he felt a sharp implement in the back of his neck. Standing cautiously he turned with his hands above his head. In front of him a dark man, with a red bandana wrapped around his tanned face was holding a scimitar to his neck, his piercing eyes looking menacingly at the armoured warrior. The bandit pointed with his free hand at the pouch located at the warrior's side. The warrior moved his right hand down towards the pouch.

Before the bandit knew what had occurred the warrior had grasped the sword hilt at his side and wiped the gleaming blade in an arc in front of him. The sword hummed as it vibrated in the warm air. The bandit slowly slumped to the floor. His bandana unfurled revealing a slash across his neck and face. The crimson blood splattered to the desert floor drying in an instant. The warrior sheathed his sword and crossed his chest. Bending down he grabbed his water pouch and tied it securely to his belt.

As he did he heard something behind him, but as he turned something heavy collided with his steel helmet. The warrior collapsed as the stone crumpled his helmet inwards and knocking him out clean. The darkness swirled in front of him and he felt something hot and wet drip down his forehead. With a crash he landed in the sand, motionless.

The warrior woke with a start. He coughed as he felt the sand in his mouth, and the heat baking down on him from above. Looking around him he found that he was in a crude wooden cage lashed together with leathers. His armour was gone, replaced with a set of dirty clothes. He felt the back of his head, and winced as he touched the bloody lump on his skull. Looking out of the cage, he saw he was caught within a camp of sorts. There were tents erected around his cage, small fires dying down and smouldering. The warrior heard something walking towards him and turned to see a masked man walking past his cage, dragging two women behind him on a chain. He laughed as he passed the incarcerated warrior and tugged on the chains causing one of the women to fall. Kicking her he dragged her through the sand towards the nearest tent still laughing manically.

The warrior looked on in anguish as he saw the women being dragged screaming into the tent. Slamming his fist against the wood he cursed under his breath. Regaining his composure he muttered a prayer and closed his eyes. There was no use in struggling and venting his anger…he was going no-where soon. He settled back against the wood and clasped his hands in prayer.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XII - Righteous men

The sun got hotter as the days progressed. The warrior scratched his burning back, the skin peeling from his body. In the corner of his prison a small bowl was filled with dirty water, and a small metal plate bearing a stale piece of bread. He did not touch it out of defiance to his captors, but in anger for himself. He was ashamed to have been so careless and held in this camp of brigands and thieves. And now he was punishing himself for his folly. Over the past few days he had seen many people walking around, most of the men bearing the same red clothing. Occasionally he saw women being dragged around on chains like the poor young girl he had seen when he first awoke. He had felt the anger inside him every time, but his teaching had told him to keep his feelings separate. His vengeance would have to wait.

He heard footsteps in the sand behind him and turned to see a large man smiling at him with blackened teeth. The man was tanned a shade of brown, and his overly large belly pushed over the rim of a tight leather belt. At his side a cruel looking cutlass gleamed in the baking sun. The man untied the leather bindings of the cage and reached in towards the warrior. His strong hands pulled out the warrior into the sand. As his bear skin hit the floor it seared from the heat, and it took all his willpower not to scream in pain. The large man grabbed the rope around his hands and dragged him through the sand towards a small tent at the other end of the camp. As the man pushed open the awning and dragged him inside, the warrior welcomed the shade if only for a brief moment.

He was dragged to his knees and forced to look straight ahead. In the shadows of the tent a small wooden chair bore a man wrapped in cloth and jewels. His face was deep in shadow but the warrior could still make out the whites of his eyes and a large beard framing his face. The shadowy man whispered something in a foreign language and ushered for someone to his side to find something. The warrior tried to turn his head to see what was going on but the large man who had dragged him here grabbed his chin and yanked it back into position. He could feel the lump on the back of his head throbbing again at the sudden movement and he closed his eyes to blank out the pain.

A few minutes later the man to his right returned with a small wooden box. Whatever was in there could not be good. The shadowy man ushered for the man to put the box in front of him and directly at the knees of the warrior. Then the shadowy man stood. The slight light of the sun catching his face and revealing deep scars and showing the look of malice etched onto his lips. Slowly he kneeled next to the warriors face and grinned showing the trademark missing teeth of someone who had been living rough. He reached down and slid the box closer to him. Lifting the lid the cruel captor revealed one small scorpion, black as the midnight sky. Its tail was arched showing the red tip and the cruel barb poised ready to strike.

The man raised the scorpion up by the tail and held it in front of the warriors face. The scorpion snapped its claws viciously and hissed in anger. The warrior could hear the men around him laughing at him and he felt the hand on his head pushing him towards the snapping claws. The anger started to rise in his stomach as he felt the shame welling up inside him. All he could hear was the laughing growing louder and louder as he was pushed towards the scorpion.

Suddenly he snapped. The anger broke and a red mist descended over him. Years of bad memories, his incarceration and now this welled up inside him and broke like a wave on the cliffs of the Twin-Seas. He stood quickly slamming his head into the jaw of the man holding his head and heard a crack as it hit home. Straining he pulled against the leather around his hands and ripped his bloody wrists from their restraints. Yelling he charged forwards into the man who had ventured from the shadows. The man looked shocked and reached for his cutlass at his side. But, before he could the warrior slammed into him and they crashed to the ground. The warrior clasped his hands around the bandit's neck and squeezed them tight. The man struggled against the warriors iron grip and so he pressed his thumbs into his eye sockets. The blood poured over his hands and the man screamed in pain.

Two men grabbed his arms and dragged him from the now twitching corpse of the torturer. The warrior flexed his muscles and flung the men over his body and into the wall of the tent. He reached down and grabbed a cutlass from the sandy floor. The two men tried to untangle themselves from the collapsing tent. But, as they did the warrior lifted the sharp blade and brought it crashing down on the bodies of the men. The guards fell silent and the deep red blood flowed onto the sandy floor. Looking down the warrior saw the scorpion crawling across sand. He stamped his foot down on the sand and crushed it underfoot.

Harisha twisted the fabric of her dress in-between her fingers and felt the silk material slip over her dark skin. She raised her hand and felt her face. It stung as she touched her cheek, the bruises still burning on her skin. Her master had hit her so hard she had blacked out for over and hour. Only now when she woke in her small shadowy tent did she realise that her master would have other plans for her now. Every other girl she had seen lead into this tent had not come out and she suspected nothing different for her. It was only a matter of time.

Suddenly she heard noises outside, someone fighting just outside her tent. She crawled forwards and pushed open the awning of her tent letting the light and heat touch her face. As her eyes focused she saw two men wrestling in the sand, while another lay still something trickling from his open mouth. The man wrapped in rags twisted his arms around the man's neck and with a quick tug and a distant click forced the guard's neck into an unnatural position. The large guard collapsed to the sand and the man pulled a knife from his belt and drove it hard into the guard's neck.

Harisha screamed as she saw the man look towards her tent. She crawled back inside and looked for something to defend herself. She found a small jewelled knife in amongst the clothes and gold and turned as she heard the awning of her tent being ripped back. The rugged man stood heaving, framed by the sunlight. His arms hand were covered in dark red blood and his face bore a cruel cut that sliced through his right eye and down to his neck. Harisha felt the colour draining from her face as the man walked slowly towards her. She pushed the knife out in front of her and saw her dainty hand shaking nervously.

The man stopped as he saw the knife in front of him. He looked at her and started to move his hand towards her. Harisha gulped and backed away, but the man did nothing and instead held his hand out invitingly. She looked at his face in disbelief and saw a small smile under the drying blood. Nervously she dropped the knife and reached out for his hand. The man gripped it tightly and lifted her to her feet. She stood cautiously not knowing what to do. But all the man did was usher one word.

"Come". His voice was deep and yet had underlying warmth to it, an understanding. He turned and walked from the tent into the heat, Harisha following behind him, stumbling slightly from the shock. She was free…for now.

The warrior winced as he fastened the armour around his chest. It felt heavy on him now, like he had never worn it before. He looked up at the woman in front of him. His eye was still blinded, and the blood was obscuring his vision but he could still make out her worried features. He reached down and found his helmet on the wooden bench; he lifted it and placed it over his head. He stared through the slits in his visor and saw that now he had disguised his features she was looking slightly less worried by him. He tied his scabbard to his belt and slid his sword into it. Holding out a hand he waited for the young woman to accept and lead her out of the tent.

Outside a horse was waiting, slurping water from a stone trough. The warrior ushered the young woman forwards and helped her onto his horse. He reached up and pulled himself onto the horses back. Putting his arms around her and grabbing the reins he silently grabbed the horse's attention and ushered it on. "My name is Ronan". The warrior whispered in the young woman's ear. "We are on our way to Lut Gholein, you are safe now".

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XIII - The Dark artists

Mobius touched the wooden end of his torch with his wand and watched it burst into flame. The burning heat illuminated the passage ways under the darkening streets of the city. The sewers were lined with dirt and grime, raw sewage running through the middle of the pathways and bubbled gently. He held his breath as he stepped over a bloated body floating in the filth. The skin was blotchy and purple, an unnatural smell emanating from the gashes in its body. Mobius could only presume that this was the work of whatever had made its lair beneath the streets of Lut Gholein.

From what Drognan, the aging mage has said this was the work of an ancient enemy named Radamant. The tales told of a hideous beast of a man who dwarfed even the ogres of the mountains. He was clad head too toe in bandages, his face that of a cruel skeletal wolf. He had mastered the art of undeath and from what many people in the city had said he was now using this to create an army of the undead to take bloody revenge on the land of mortals above him. Mobius had taken things much worse than this in his travels, not to mention his victory over the demon Andariel. But something about this monster had him on edge. He too had studied the black art in detail and knew the terrible power that it could bring to bear if the user wished it.

Necromancy was one of the oldest magical lores in the history of the world. It had existed before the empire had begun and the church established. Clans of warlocks would call upon the powers of life and death and bring back their powerful warriors in ghostly forms to wage war on the battlefield again and again. It had all but disappeared after the church had been formed and had rid the land of evil. Its godly campaign had purged all but the hardiest of necromancers from the realm and to this day its only dark remains were in the libraries of mages and those private collectors. All other traces had been burnt by the Paladins of Westmarch in their holy quest.

This would mean that Radamant was powerful indeed; to have foiled not only the paladin's retribution but that of death itself was a feat none could achieve alone. Diablo had obviously had a hand in Radamant's return to power, and with the power of one of the prime evils on his side this would not be as easy as Mobius had first thought it would. Still, with his wand in hand and an in-depth knowledge of necromancy in his mind he was sure that in the grand scheme of things he would find a way. It was at that moment that Mobius longed for the company of Dorn. His presence meant that even in the darkest of places Mobius had felt safe. He knew Dorn had his own reasons for leaving but Mobius couldn't help feeling that now more than ever he could do with his help.

He crept on, his footsteps sounding louder than normal in the silence of the sewers. Occasionally he would hear something strange in the distance, but as soon as it came it would fade, a trick of the mind. From what the townsfolk had said Radamant must have taken over a hundred victims in the past week. The size of the city meant that it was not hard to lose someone down a back alley or late at night. That and the ever growing presence of assassins and bounty hunters meant that most street folk saw disappearances as a matter for the guards and not something to deal with themselves.

It was not long before Mobius found himself in the very centre of the enormous sewer system of Lut Gholein. The main reservoir of water was surrounded by pipes set into the wall, some trickling slowly while others ran faster and clearer. Looking over the drop he stared down into the grim darkness. This was where the water from the entire city gathered before rushing down to the waters edge only a mile across the city. He couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship of the place, dug from the very foundations of the city. It was a feat that even the smiths and masons of the Arreat region would be proud of.

Something in the water caught his eye. Something or someone was moving around in the water below him. Reaching into his pouch around him neck he pulled out another torch, sticking his own in the cracks of the stone in front of him he lit the second and reached out over the expanse of the reservoir. The dim flame didn't pick out anything in the gloom. He tossed the flaming brand into the pit and waited for the result. He didn't expect much after all the water would probably put out the flame in an instance.

Then, something happened he didn't expect. The torch landed and seemed to writhe around in something. Mobius pulled a small stone from his pocket. The yellow stone shone brightly even though the gloom pressed in on everything around him. Casting it into the air, Mobius pointed his wand at the stone and with a jet of bright light blasted it into small fragments. The bright light from within the stone suddenly spread out over the expanse of the reservoir and illuminated the scene before him.

It was not water writhing around below him, but bodies…thousands of them. Staring open mouthed Mobius saw hundreds and hundreds of dead shambling around, arms outstretched towards him, their pale white eyes giving him a deathly stare. In the mass of bodies he could see the uniforms of the royal guard, as well as the clothes of the normal population. Why had Jheryn not told him about these disappearances? Maybe there were others in his courts that were not as loyal as they had first seemed. Behind him, Mobius heard something padding slowly forwards. Turning slowly he gazed upon the most terrifying spectacle he had ever seen.

The large form of Radamant stood before him, bandages hanging from his skeletal limbs and his bony head staring straight into his own eyes. Behind the massive figure stood row upon row of undead, heads down and in perfect order. They had not been lying when they said Radamant had extraordinary powers over the dead. The form of Radamant lowered its mighty head and spoke deeply and slowly, rancid breath washing over Mobius. "Welcome little necromancer. It seems you took a wrong turn."

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XIV - Where Rats Dare

The demons breath washed over Mobius as he stared into the eyes of something that had been long dead for many, many years. Radamant's face was on of pure hatred and torture, his huge dog like head glared and creaked beneath the cloth wrappings. Slowly the ancient necromancer smiled his yellowing teeth grating against each other as he closed within a few centimetres of Mobius' face. Behind him, the legions of undead were slowly stirring, the ranks mowing forwards at a shuffle. Mobius could see all walks of life within the ranks of the dead. Guards, traders, and normal folk all now stood in a deathly silence awaiting their master's orders.

"You think that you, a mere student of the dark arts can bring me to my knees little necromancer?" Radamant was now speaking slowly and almost kindly to Mobius who was standing stock still at the edge of the giant pit behind him.

"Radamant, you may be a powerful necromancer, but much has changed in the world since you were last walking upon it." Mobius was impressed with his own nerve. "The dark arts are not what they were before".

As soon as Mobius had stopped, Radamant laughed, a deep resonating laugh that shook the stonework around them. "Necromancer…you underestimate my power. Do you not think that I would have learnt of this before I came into your world?" Mobius felt the colour draining from his face. How could he have been so stupid? "Now…enough with this talk, we now have the matter of what to do with you little wanderer."

Radamant stood to his full height and moved to the right, his clawed feet ripping at the stone floor. Slowly he ushered to the mass of undead in the corridor, they suddenly started to creep forwards, their heads now turned to face Mobius, white eyes gleaming in the torch light. Radamant turned a smile on his face. "Time for my creations to have some fun I think." Mobius quickly reached into his pouch at his side and whipped out a gleaming short sword. The undead were almost upon him when he ushered a quick spell under his breath and threw the sword to the floor.

The sword buckled and swirled with magical energies. Suddenly the golem from within burst out and unfurled itself from a metal casing. It roared a metallic roar and stomped towards the mass of undead. Mobius smiled slightly; at least this would keep them busy while he dealt with Radamant. Looking round he saw that Radamant was smiling rather than worried. Mobius could hear him whispering something through his teeth, and slowly as Mobius looked round the metal golem ground to a halt. Mobius watched in horror as the golem creaked and turned to face Mobius who was now gripping the rusted rails with white hands. The golems eyes shone with a green glow and it stalked towards him.

Mobius could see no way out. He looked behind him at the mass of bodies that seethed in the water; this was going to be his only chance. He drew his sword from its scabbard and looked quickly at Radamant. "Looks like you won't be adding me to your army quite yet demon." Pointing his wand at the stone wall behind the giant demon, he let off a blast of energy and flung himself over the rusted railings. The blast of magic ruptured the stone wall and dark water started to surge from the hole in the wall. The foul water washed out over the surfaces and started to tug at the undead trying in vain to stay standing. Radamant howled in anger and opened his mouth letting out a foul scream, until the sudden wave gripped him and pulled him away down the passage way he had come.

Mobius landed heavily on top of a zombie who snapped under the weight of the necromancer. He went waist deep in water as the undead around him turned in confusion at this sudden visitor. It didn't last long however and the expressions of puzzlement suddenly turned into one of malice. Mobius ducked a club like swing from one of the zombies and promptly blasted it in two with a quick flick of his wand. Again a wet hand clawed at his head, ripping the skin from his left cheek. Mobius drove his sword into the attacker up to the hilt, before ripping it free, cutting the zombie down in one go. Pushing onwards he blasted a path through the undead, making sure to aim for the heads and limbs of his undead attackers.

After a minute of fighting through the mass of undead he saw an open sewer grate ahead of him. While fending off a zombie with his wand, he sheathed his now bloody sword and drew out a handful of small bones from his pouch. Quickly and expertly he threw the bones into the air and uttered the magic words. The bones suddenly gathered as one and formed a swirling mass of bone to protect him. Ducking down Mobius broke into a charge and pushed his way through the mass of undead towards the now clear sewer grate. Leaping through the entrance he landed hard in the filthy water. Turning on his back he saw the undead speeding up and reached forwards into the tunnel. Mobius pointed his wand at the entrance and whispered as the bones that were shielding him piled into the gap and stacked on top of each other forming a mesh of bone.

Mobius took a sigh of relief as he noticed the cage was holding, for the moment at least. Standing he brushed the grime from his leather armour and turned to the darkness that lay before him. He had no idea where this passage way would end up…but anything was better than the hell he had just left behind. He tied a piece of cloth around his mouth and with his wand lighting the way walked on down into the tunnel that stretched out before him.

He had been walking for almost an hour, seeing nothing but rats and the occasional flash of flesh beneath the murky water. The water was getting deeper as he walked on, and now it was almost up to his knees, forcing him to struggle through the sludge. This must mean that he was nearing an exit of some kind if the water was now all collecting here. Suddenly he heard a noise ahead of him, someone down here walking through the water like him. He pressed himself against the wall of the tunnel and stayed as still as possible, something or someone was pushing ever closer to his position.

The noise kept on coming, and slowly a shadow walked past him. Mobius looked puzzled at the form of a woman pushing her way through the sewage. She was dressed in the clothes of a slave girl, and was clutching the wall shaking violently. Mobius flinched slightly, drawing in a sharp breath. The woman suddenly stopped and gazed at him, his white hair betraying him in the dark. However she wasn't looking at him, she was looking to his left. Mobius felt something cold and sharp slide past his neck and the glint of metal in the green light. A deep voice spoke quietly in his ear. "Remain still heretic, or I shall cut you down where you stand. Your blood spilt would pain me not."

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XV - The Long Way

The sun was not kind; it beat down on the travellers as they crossed the hot sand. The Horse wheezed, white foam hanging from its mouth. Its body was barely able to keep standing, especially with the woman riding it. The man beside her shuffled slowly in the sand, using the horses reigns to keep himself standing rather than leading it in any particular way. His armour was blood stained, especially his closed helmet covered in dried blood that had trickled down on to his now worn breast plate. He breathed slowly, his muscles running out of oxygen to keep him moving. The woman on horseback was no better, her skin was red raw burnt by the weeks of travel and the bruises of years of torture at the hands of her captors were still visible on her waist and legs.

Ronan wheezed inside his helmet. The cut across his face was dried, and yet everytime he tried to move his muscles in his cheek intense pain would shoot through him. The wound was deep, but the pain meant that at least it had done no permanent damage to his muscles. The only scar would be physical, penance for the men he had killed to escape from his prison. But, it had been necessary he could not let his holy quest fail because of a band of wandering thieves. He had not shown the woman he was with, but another wound on his leg was not faring so well. He could feel it bleeding steadily, a symptom of walking with it, but he could not let the woman walk.

Harisha gazed down at the knight walking beside her. She could not help but feel remorse for his man. He had done so much for her, and she had offered nothing in return. After all, she had nothing to offer but her body and a knight like him would obviously have taken a vow like the ones from the stories she had read as a child with her mother. She opened her mouth to ask him to ride the horse, but even as she did the knight she now knew as Ronan looked at her and shook his head. She couldn't help feeling that he was punishing himself for something.

She looked up at the horizon, the city of Lut Gholein was getting bigger now it would only be a few more hours before they would soon be able to eat well and drink clean water again. Something was still puzzling her, she saw things moving in the desert at night and it was getting more often as they closed on the city. The knight had told her not to worry, but she knew that something was wrong. Still, if Ronan said that it would be ok, she would trust his instincts. After all he was a warrior and she was not.

An hour passed, the sun sliding across the sky as midday came and went. They were nearly there now, the city had disappeared behind a mass of sand dunes, but it was certainly there. Ronan heard something faint at first, but growing louder. It sounded like shouting but he wasn't sure. As he stumbled over the rise he suddenly saw exactly what had made the noise. Ahead of him the city walls of Lut Gholein stood defiantly, and yet around there walls were bodies…masses of bodies. He heard the woman scream, and turned to look at her. She was frozen in terror, the sea of bodies both demon and human were lying motionless in the desert sand.

Movement caught Ronan's eye. He looked up and saw something at the city gates, prowling with spear in hand. The group stopped suddenly and Ronan could just make out the lead creature pointing in their direction. He turned and looked at the woman in the saddle. "Run." Ronan blanked the pain and grabbed the woman from the saddle, smacking the horse towards the creatures now charging towards them. He looked around and saw the small tunnel dug into the rock of the walls. Dragging the woman be his hand, he ripped his helmet off and threw it away. The horse would only distract the creatures for so long.

Hearing a sound behind her Harisha turned and saw the horse suddenly fall to the ground, a spear lodged in the poor creature's side. The demonic creatures now turned their full attention to them and broke into a run to catch them. The knight stopped and turned on the spot, drawing his sword in one swift motion. He looked at Harisha and scowled, urging her to carry on to the sewer entrance. She ran as fast as she could, her feet burning on the sand and clambered into the giant tunnel, grime and sewage washing over her.

Ronan gripped his sword in two hands, the leather flexing in his grip. The first creature leapt at him bringing its spear down towards his head. Ronan drew his sword up and deflected the wooden shaft forcing it into the sand at his feet before slashing upwards and sending a fountain of crimson shooting up into the air. The second sent a small bottle of orange liquid flying towards him. Ronan reached up and grabbed it in mid air, spinning and slamming his sword into the creature's side. He broke into a run, three more of the things were running towards him sabres ready. Ronan forced his legs to move and pushed Harisha deeper into the tunnel as he leapt in himself. He turned and saw the creatures closing on them, and the potion in his left hand.

Ronan prayed under his breath and threw the small bottle at the creatures chasing them. The glass bottle seemed to glimmer in the light as it smashed on the nearest one and erupted into flames. The inferno engulfed them and they screamed as the flames ripped the flesh from their bones. Ronan shielded himself as the flames licked into the tunnel and caught light on the hanging material at its entrance. They could not get out, and the creatures could certainly not get in.

Ronan turned and looked at the terrified woman sitting in the sewage. He smiled weakly and reached for her hand. "Do not be afraid, we will find our way out." He stood as best he could and squeezed past her deeper into the tunnel. Harisha grabbed his hand tightly, he had got her out of one horrible situation, and now he would do it again.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XVI -The Desert Scroll

Mobius flinched; he could feel the sharp blade biting into his neck as he moved awkwardly in the sewage swilling around his feet. The man in front of him was glaring through the dark, the whites of his eyes shining in the gloom. He still held his wand in his hand, but the armoured man seemed to notice every little movement he was making, his eyes flickering up and down inspecting his every twitch. The woman behind the man was still looking as scared as she did five minutes ago. Her face was bruised and battered, and she looked burnt by the sun. Mobius had no idea where she was from, or what she was doing down here, but the man holding him stock still was occasionally looking at her with a quick glance, as if making sure she came to no harm.

Suddenly, the mans sword fell away from Mobius' neck and the armoured man crashed into the water gripping him leg with an armoured gauntlet. Mobius leapt backwards and raised his wand, there was no way he was being captured by some crazy man deep in these rat infested sewers. The woman immediately ran to his aid, grabbing his arm and helping him to his feet. That was when Mobius noticed the pattern on his armour and froze. The armour was adorned with dried blood and sand, but underneath all of that a large tree was etched into the plating, the sign of the church of Westmarch. This was why the man had held him so long. The church despised all black arts of any kind, and every paladin was meant to seek it out and destroy it at all times. It was just Mobius' luck that he would run into one down in the depths of the sewers.

The woman had now propped the paladin against the sewer wall where he wheezed heavily, his hand hung low and eyes closed. She turned quickly to Mobius and started talking in a language he didn't understand. Mobius kept his wand aimed at the man; he was not letting him get the drop on him anytime soon, even if he was injured. The woman was shouting now, gesturing to the knight's leg and then back to him, her hands open in a pleading gesture. Mobius knew he was going to regret this later, but he lowered his wand and dug deep in his pouch. He pulled out a potion and showed it to the woman; he walked past her and knelt in the sewage next to the paladin. The woman was still talking fast, Mobius turned and shouted. "BE QUIET!" The woman stopped talking immediately, a look of terror on her face. "Sorry" Mobius said quietly "I didn't mean it, just…just stay there and watch, ok?" Mobius turned and removed the armour from the paladin's leg.

The wound was terrible, the cut was bloody and now with the combination of sewage and time it had become incredibly infected. Mobius grimaced at the smell that drifted from the wound. He brought the bottle to his lips and pulled the cork out with his teeth. The fresh perfume of the potion was refreshing in the dank sewers. Mobius put his thumb over the top and dripped it slowly onto the wound. The paladin groaned and his leg twitched awkwardly as the potion landed on the wound, a slow sizzle showing that the potion was indeed working. The wound cleared up instantly, the blood washing away and leaving only a large scar on the skin. Mobius looked up for the first time, seeing the man face. It was dripping with sweat and blood from the wound on his head, but his eyes were now open.

The paladin nodded and opened his mouth. "My name is Ronan, if it were not for my wounds I would have killed you here and now." Mobius looked taken aback, some thanks he was getting for saving this Ronan's leg. "Now, necromancer…how do we get out of this forsaken place?"

Mobius gazed in disbelief. "I thought you came down here from the city! I was about to ask you the same question"

"We can not go back the way we came. The entrance is on fire, and outside there are many demons fighting the town guard." The paladin looked slightly better now, the colour returning to his face, the bleeding easing on the wound that cut across his face.

Mobius turned and gestured at the woman cowering against the wall. "And who might I ask…is she?" The man Mobius now knew as Ronan looked at the woman and smiled.

"Do not worry, she is harmless. I found her in the desert; the bruises are the work of her previous…owners." Ronan stood uneasily with his sword as a walking aid. "We should move on now, there is no telling how long it will be before the vile creatures find us down here."

Ronan walked forwards and took the hand of the scared woman. She immediately calmed, giving quick looks at Mobius. Ronan turned "Come, which way did you walk down here?" Mobius pointed in the direction he had just come.

"I wouldn't if I were you Ronan. There are nearly a hundred undead swarming in those tunnels." Mobius saw Ronan groan.

"In that case, we should try down here." Ronan pointed to a small tunnel that Mobius had walked straight past. He walked forwards and pushed his way into the narrow tunnel, the woman following. "One wrong move necromancer and I'll kill you where you stand." He obviously wasn't ready to be friends just yet.

The air was lighter down the narrow tunnel, just above Mobius' shoulders there seemed to be a vein of fresh air that was blowing from somewhere. They carried on further, always looking for an exit or hole in the ceiling, but there seemed to be nothing. Eventually however the water seemed to be draining away. It got shallower and shallower until it was suddenly replaced by sand. Ronan stopped ahead of Mobius, making him bang his knee on the close walls. "It seems there is a space here necromancer, a room of some sorts. Pass me your torch." Mobius leant forwards past the woman and handed his brand to the paladin. Ronan immediately started moving again, faster this time until even Mobius could see the entrance to the room ahead. They filed out into a massive chamber, carved into the very rock itself.

The walls were covered in pictures and writing, massive murals to the gods of the people above them. They were to say the least disturbing; as Mobius and Ronan brought their torches up to the walls they saw engravings of sacrifice and destruction. Mobius was just about to walk on when he saw something strange in the sandy wall. It was a picture of an angelic being holding something in its outstretched hand. Ronan had walked on, but Mobius moved closer to inspect the small picture. The man was in a room, not unlike the one they were in now. And he was pointing to a section of the wall just behind him. Mobius stood and looked round, the wall looked exactly the same as all the others, but it was worth a try.

"Ronan" Mobius shouted at the huge knight who turned immediately. "Do you notice anything different about this wall?" He pointed at the sandstone and waited for his response.

Ronan let go of the young woman's hand for the first time in over an hour and walked towards the wall. The pressed his hands against the stone and brushed his leather gloves over the masonry. "There is something strange about the stone." He stopped on a certain section of the wall and took his left glove off putting bare flesh on the wall. "Indeed…it is warm here; something is on the other side of this wall.

Mobius didn't even have a second to react to this. Ronan stepped backwards quickly and with a mighty kick, smashed a hole in the masonry sending dust flying into the air. When it cleared the hole revealed a strange scene. Inside the wall a small alter was standing in the middle of a shadowy alcove that was big enough for one man. The alter had on it a small wooden box, that radiated an intense heat. Ronan fought through the dust and grabbed the box with both hands. Both Mobius and Harisha were behind him, still shaking the dust from their clothes and hair. Ronan opened the clasps on the ancient wood and let the box flick open slowly. He reached inside and pulled out a large scroll wrapped around a golden centre. He unravelled it only slightly, and read the first line. Mobius saw him look round quickly at him and immediately close the scroll before Mobius could inquire.

"What is it Ronan?" Mobius walked closer, still brushing the sand from his clothes.

"Nothing that concerns you necromancer." Ronan turned and glared at Mobius with his one good eye.

"I think it does concern me paladin, if you didn't know I was sent here by the Sultan of Lut Gholein so anything down here is my responsibility!" Immediately Mobius felt uneasy, it didn't seem wise to anger a ruthless religious warrior in a situation as claustrophobic as this one.

"I will dictate what is for you to know dark one." Ronan walked forward and grabbed the woman, now looking terrified. "There is a ladder dug into the rock in the alcove, it seems to lead up to the city above." He lifted his sword. "You necromancer, your going to go first."

Mobius could see no way of arguing with the point of a sword. He backed past the outstretched sword and into the alcove. The ladder ahead of him was old, the iron rusted and looking weak. But, with a sword behind him he was going to have to risk the climb. As he climbed, Mobius could hear something above him at the circle of light that hung in the middle of the hole. Behind him he could hear the clink of armour and the young woman muttering something incoherent, but something loud was certainly happening in the city above.

As he reached the top of the ladder, the glaring sun stunned him, his eyes burning in the sudden blast of light. But, it didn't last long. As he pulled himself up an arrow whizzed past his head, landing hard in the floor to his left. Mobius looked up and saw a man dressed in red grappling with a huge feline like creature wearing black armour. He bent down into the hole and yelled at the top of his voice. "Get up here quick, something bad is going on up here!" The woman was suddenly ejected from the hole with a grunt as Ronan pushed his way up into the street. Mobius looked round and saw the red dressed man joined by four other men who immediately preceded too beat the beast to a bloody pulp.

Mobius stood beside Ronan as the men turned in shock at the two strange men suddenly appearing in the back alley. Mobius had to agree, he was covered in dust and had legs covered in sewage, while Ronan was dressed head to toe in plate armour, with dried blood covering nearly every inch of his armour. Mobius opened his mouth to speak, but Ronan shouted over his voice. "What is going on here?"

The five men looked at each other and spoke in heavy eastern accents. "Are you telling us you don't know what is going on?" Mobius and Ronan looked back blankly.

"The city…its under siege."

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XVII - Breaking the Siege

The guards led Ronan and Mobius out into the open streets. They could see on the walls, men fighting desperately but instead of them going straight to the walls to aid in the defences the guards led them off down a smaller alley way, towards a small house that appeared to be untouched by the fighting. The royal guards stopped at the small wooden door and gestured for the two of them to enter. Mobius looked sideways at Ronan who was looking darkly at the guards and still clutching the golden scroll in his gauntleted hands. Mobius walked forwards and pushed open the small door. Ronan followed and stepped into the darkness. The woman tried to follow, but the guards held her back. "You are not allowed slave girl." Ronan stopped and looked back.

"You harm her, and I will make sure you rue the day you met me." The same glare seemed to pierce the minds of the guards, who looked suddenly scared.

"Do not worry paladin, we will take her to the potion master. Now, go in please sir."

The room was lit by a small window located in the sandy wall. It let a beam of light fall on a large table in the centre of the room. The wooden door closed with a slam, and the people surrounding the table looked up at the two new arrivals. Lord Jheryn looked up at Mobius. He was now clad in armour with a cruel scimitar located on his leather belt. Around him were five or so generals, identifiable by colourful turbans, with a red gem located in the centre holding a large black feather in place. Next to Jheryn was a man dressed in an orange robe, a large black beard framing his tanned face. He had a small leather pouch around his waist and was holding a map in his hands. He smiled kindly at Mobius, and cast a wary eye over the bloodied paladin that stood behind him.

"Ahh, Mobius". Jheryn looked up and smiled, arms outstretched. "I'm glad your ok my friend and I hope you found what you wanted down in the sewer but now we have a very big problem on our hands." He immediately motioned to a wooden seat next to the table, and looked up at the paladin still glaring through the darkness. "You must be Ronan, the priests of Westmarch sent a messenger who told me I should expect your company. However, you were meant to be over three days ago?"

Ronan bowed heavily and spoke in his deep booming voice. "I'm sorry for the lateness. Unforeseen circumstances meant that I was somewhat waylaid".

"No problem Ronan, I see you are injured. My guards will take you to a healer as soon as possible to sort out that gash."

"Thank you" Whispered Ronan. "I also found this down in the sewers where I met…the necromancer." He reached out a hand and placed the scroll on the large wooden table.

Mobius watched as the man swathed in orange gasped. "This…this is a most important discovery." The man looked at the puzzled Mobius and the paladin who had stood quickly. "Sorry. My name is Drognan I think you may have heard of me Mobius."

Mobius nodded. "Indeed, Akara said that I should meet you as soon as I arrived here. But, obviously my adventures in the sewers have meant I haven't been able to meet anyone lately."

"Do not worry" Drognan smiled and reached across the table to the scroll now rolling back and forwards on the wood.

"What is this scroll about?" said Mobius. Not being able to see it down in the alcove had heightened his interest in the scroll.

"Excuse me" Ronan interrupted. "But I do not think that a…necromancer should be allowed to partake in such a holy issue as this." Suddenly the entire room felt awkward.

Jheryn looked at Ronan. "I'm not sure who informed you of this situation paladin, but Mobius here has helped us immensely."

"I do not doubt his capacity to help, but I doubt his motives." Ronan was completely blanking Mobius now."

"I'm sorry paladin, but Mobius is a friend and he shall be here for all of my meetings. You will just have to bear with him for now."

Jheryn looked back at the large map of the city lain out before him, Drognan had retreated into the shadows, and was examining the scroll, the gold glittering in the light.

The generals bent over it too, while Mobius sat down on the small stool. Ronan stood behind him, his right hand clasped over the sword sheathed at his side. "Now" Jheryn said. "We have an important issue to deal with. The demons are outside our gates as we speak and the guards can only hold them at bay for so long. We need a plan of action that can clear the gate of enemy forces and secure an exit for our troops to attack their base deep in the desert, any ideas?" The generals immediately started talking fast in the deep eastern accents while Mobius and Ronan looked on as Jheryn listened to everything being put forwards.

Then, out of the darkness a shout from Drognan brought everyone into silence. Jheryn turned "What is it Drognan, does the scroll reveal anything of interest?" Drognan sat stunned by something on the ancient papyrus in front of him.

"It doesn't seem possible" muttered Drognan "But, it looks like the ancient tales are true. Many years ago there were tales of the Horodric items located deep within the desert and the trapping of the demon Baal within a man called Tal Rasha. The tomb was meant to be lost, the only access being granted by a special Horodric staff that was created using a special item called the Horodric cube." He paused and looked closer at the ancient writing. "It seems that the cube does indeed exist, and so apparently does the pieces of the lost staff. The cube is located deep with a tomb in the desert only a few miles from here. The staff on the other hand was separated with the stave located under an oasis and the head piece in the viper claw temple in the lost city." Drognan hit his head with his hand. "Of course! This is why the eclipse was foretold, the vipers will us the amulet to bring it into existence."

The room stood stunned by the tale. Jheryn however had already formulated an idea in his mind. "Drognan, you say that the tomb of Tal Rasha is where Baal is located. This must be where the demon Diablo was heading, and I fear that he may have already finished his plans." He looked at Mobius and Ronan who were both still reeling from the revelation in the scroll. "Mobius, you will go and find the three pieces of the staff. One of my guards will go with you." He turned to Ronan. "You Paladin will try and find the tomb itself. I'm sure Drognan would be more than happy to take you to the library and find something on the history. I believe someone else is coming tomorrow to help out, a man called Cain from what I remember."

Ronan this time didn't argue but turned quickly and with a short bow walked out of the room. Mobius turned to Jheryn. "There is still the small matter of the siege."

Jheryn smiled awkwardly. "I have just thought of a solution to that as well. You are a competent necromancer Mobius?"

"Well yes, but I can't see that helping here." Mobius had no idea what the lord was planning.

"Well, it pains me to say this but I think our dead may have to be called back into service for at least a little while." Immediately the generals broke out in torrents of shouting. Jheryn spoke calmly in the same tongue and silenced the guards with that sounded like a pleading tone.

Drognan stood and walked out of the shadows. "Well…I think I should go and find our angry paladin. He will undoubtedly need some help finding the library." He walked out of the door the scroll gripped tightly in his hand.

"Well, Mobius it seems I will have to take you to our graveyard." Jheryn smiled nervously. "We have someone who may be able to help as well, although I doubt he will be as inviting as he once was."

He muttered something else in the same thick foreign accent to the generals around him, and ushered for Mobius to follow him outside. Mobius was suddenly hit by a pang of unease. He'd never raised so many dead in one go, but hopefully with this mysterious mans help he could raise an army to hold the gate of the city.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XVIII - The Great Library

Ronan undid the leather straps on his armour and placed it next to the hot steps of the library of Lut Gholein. He flexed his arms, the constraints of armour had taken there toll on his muscles. He looked up at the massive domed roof, adorned with colourful patterns and scripture stretched across every inch of its sandy walls. Ronan heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Drognan walking towards him, the scroll still clutched in his hands.

"I see you found the library without my help paladin" Drognan stepped past him and breathed out heavily. "Ahh, this place is a real wonder of the world. No other place has the amount of writings as we do here."

Ronan turned and looked at the old man. "In that case, I'm sure it will reveal what we need to know about this tomb"

Drognan laughed. "Indeed paladin" He put out his hand and pointed to the entrance. "If you would like to go first."

Ronan picked up his breast plate and walked up the worn steps towards the large metal doors that closed the library off from the rest of the world. Drognan followed staying behind him watching the wonder spread over the paladins face. Ronan reached the top, and gazed up at the gigantic iron gates that were set into the sandy walls. The door was carved with small images of beasts and a large depiction of the city of Lut Gholein itself and the surrounding desert. It was indeed glorious but Ronan was more interested in the holy documents that lay behind it rather than the mural on the door. He laid his gauntleted hand on the metal and pushed, Drognan waiting behind him. The door creaked and grating across the floor it slowly opened, a gust of warm air swamping out of the bowls of the library and washing over Ronan and Drognan.

Inside the library Ronan gazed with wonder at the vastness of the library. It had looked big from the outside, but now he was inside the hallowed walls it was even more impressive. There were hundreds of bookcases, stacked to the ceiling with volume upon volume of leather bound books. As well as this, dozens of small tables were laid out down the corridors of bookcases, each piled with dozens of books. Occasionally Ronan saw a small bearded man, a pair of spectacles perched on hooked noses, all of them pouring over ancient tomes. Drognan walked past Ronan and to a man dressed in the same red garments as him. After a few minutes of hushed conversation Drognan turned and nodded to Ronan, who was still taken by the immense size of the library.

Drognan and Ronan walked slowly between the rows of books guided by the small man Drognan had conversed with earlier. They passed the men looking down at their worn volumes, who didn't move or talk to them, engrossed in their studies. They eventually reached the other end of the library and a small wooden door hidden behind a pile of books. The small man moved the books to the side carefully and after fiddling in his pocket for a few seconds drew out a small chain of keys. He found the one he wanted and handed it to Drognan. With a quick glance at Ronan, who was still holding the armour in his hands he smiled nervously and walked quickly down the row of books.

Drognan put the key into the small lock and whispered to Ronan. "The librarian wasn't best pleased to let us down into the inner vault. It would be wise for only me to touch the volumes inside, not only because I know what I'm looking for but your hands are not clean." He smiled and looked at Ronan's dirty gauntleted hands. Ronan smiled back, he'd have to clean before he went to prayer later today. Drognan pushed the creaking door open and walked slowly into the small room. It was the same design as the main library with rows of books, but there was only one table now, with no books or small man as if waiting for them to study the book they were searching for. "Stay here Ronan, there is a small font over there" He pointed to the corner of the room where a small basin stood calmly in the stale air. "I will find the appropriate tome, its somewhere here."

Drognan laid his pouch and the scroll on the small table and walked off quickly into the book cases, running a finger across the spines as he went examining them quickly. Ronan propped his breast plate against the table leg and took off his gauntlets and leather gloves. He moved to the nearby font and dipped his hands in the water. It was surprisingly cool, the dried blood on his hands drifting into the water and washing from his palms. Ronan was suddenly struck by the memory of his church in the region of Westmarch. He remembered the cold stone floors where he had sat in vigil for three days at the end of his training as an initiate. The large cross emblazoned on the wall behind the main alter, and the kind old priest who had taken him in and put him on the right path.

The sound of Drognan behind him drew him back into reality. "I've found it Ronan, the volume we need to find the ancient tomb of Tal Rasha." Ronan dried his hands on his woollen shirt and walked over to the table. Drognan had laid out the leather book on the hard wooden surface and opened the first page. "This may take some time; the writing is an ancient one that does not appear too often now. It would be better if you took a seat and waited while I look." Ronan looked over Drognan's shoulder at the writing laid out before him.

"I have seen this writing before Drognan." Ronan didn't know how, but the writing seemed familiar.

"Really?" Drognan looked surprised at the sudden revelation. "This language died out over a hundred years ago."

"A man showed me this when I was young, back in the town of Duncraig." Ronan remembered the old man who had come to visit his father, a scroll that bore the same writing as this book was clutched in his hands as he talked quickly to his father.

"In that case Ronan, you can help me." Drognan found the middle of the book and undid the fastenings. "Try this text out, it's about the desert tombs of the kings."

Hours passed, the sun going down in the sky and the small torches on the walls of the inner library glowed brighter and brighter. Drognan and Ronan sat at the small table pouring over the texts, piles of pages stacked to the side of them offering no help in finding the illustrious tomb of Tal Rasha. Ronan sat back in his chair and sighed, the sound echoing in the silence. "It does not seem that we will find anything of help here Drognan. I have looked through almost three chapters of this book and not a single thing has revealed itself to me."

Drognan turned and smiled at him. "Be patient Ronan, there will be something here." He pointed at the page in front of him. "This particular chapter highlights on more than one occasion the importance of the palace here in Lut Gholein and that something was built there before the palace was erected almost one hundred years ago."

Ronan answered quizzically "The tomb?"

Drognan seemed puzzled. "No, I don't think so but possibly a clue to its actual whereabouts."

Ronan stood and stretched. "In that case, we should investigate this small clue. It's better than staying here for days on end waiting for one of these books to divulge its secrets."

Drognan nodded in agreement. "You speak the truth paladin. This has not yielded a single clue but if Jheryn is willing, we will investigate the lower levels of the palace for something to help us here."

He stood uneasily, grabbing Ronan's arm for support. Smiling he steadied himself and carefully placing the volumes into his pouch he walked to the sanctum door. Ronan walked to the water font, which mysteriously had turned from the bloody water of before, back into clear and cool liquid. He lifted the breast plate onto his back and fastened his gauntlets to his belt. Grunting he walked to the door which Drognan had now opened and walked back into the vast outer hall.

"I will never get over the enormity of this place Drognan." Ronan was gazing at the high ceiling dotted with painted stars and the gods and goddesses of the people of Lut Gholein looking down on the lore-men of the fair city.

"It is indeed brilliant Ronan." Drognan looked up at the ceiling too. "But, if we don't find the tomb of Tal Rasha this place, and all of this fair city will be no more." He turned and walked off down the rows of books.

Ronan watched the old man walk slowly down the bookcases. He reminded him off the priest who had taken him in, and what he said was very true, almost frighteningly so. If they did not act fast, and if Mobius could not do break the siege as Drognan had said then there was no hope for anyone.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter IXX - Waking the Sleepers

Jheryn opened the creaking metal gate that barred entry to the dark passageways of the catacombs of Lut Gholien. Mobius choked as toxic fumes blasted out of the tunnel with a sudden and eerie gust of wind that chilled them both to the bone. Jheryn smiled nervously, looking round at the equally anxious Mobius before taking a flaming brand from the cobwebbed walls and holding it aloft. Mobius lit one in turn, and walked into the deep tunnel. Jheryn followed closely behind, Mobius could hear the young lord's breath become ragged. Mobius whispered to him.

"Do not worry Jheryn, your with a necromancer remember." He heard Jheryn laugh nervously.

"It's not that necromancer; I have no worries about the dead here. It's the worry that if this does work, I will have dishonoured the dead of this fair city by raising them back into a doomed life." They carried on walking down the stony corridor, the last statement hanging in the stale air.

"I would say that the dead will be thankful that you made them feel alive again. The people too will be happy that you did what you could." Mobius wasn't used to offering such a helping hand, but it had started to grow on him since he had met the young lord. Jheryn was so full of enthusiasm and pride for his country, something that many leaders had forgotten with the lure of gold and power hanging over them.

"I thank you for your kindness Mobius, but I do not see the ancient lore-makers of this fair city seeing things the same way as you or I."

They walked on for what seemed like hours, the same passage way winding its way down further and further into the ancient soil, occasionally becoming straight but then dipping down again into the bowls of the earth. The air was growing staler and staler, and the once regular torches on the walls were becoming less and less frequent until slowly they disappeared completely and a hollow sound vibrated through the catacombs. At first it sounded like chanting, a rhythmic chanting sounding like hundreds of people deep within the bowls of the catacombs.

"Jheryn, is there anyone else down here?" Mobius asked nervously. He had not anticipated an audience be it good or bad.

"No Mobius, its not people." Mobius didn't know whether or not to be more worried that the unearthly voices were not of human origin. "The sound is created by a maze of tunnels built into the ceilings and walls of the catacombs deeper down. It brings in fresh air from the surface, which is why I don't understand the staleness of the air we breathe now."

Mobius felt a weight lift from his chest, but the fact that Jheryn was worried about this change in such an ancient place did little to ease the tension in his mind.

Suddenly the tunnel came to an end. The sandy walls stopped and a single torch hung at the very end. Mobius ran to it and ran his free hand over the sandy wall.

"Jheryn, where does this go!?" Mobius could feel an anger rising in him, there was no time for foolish games.

"Calm down Mobius, look up." Jheryn pointed upwards to the curved ceiling.

Mobius gazed above him at a small stone block that looked a different colour from the surrounding stone. There was a small printed mark in the centre, an eagle clasping a glowing orb. Mobius looked at Jheryn, who reached up and pushed hard on the stone set above him. With a grinding the stone slid into the ceiling until it quickly drew away from him and into the section above him. A ladder suddenly dropped from the hole above them and landed, unfurled on the sandy floor. Mobius grabbed the rope and hauled himself up, followed quickly by Jheryn. They clambered onto the second floor of the tunnel and brushed the sand from her clothes. The tunnel looked the same as the last one, stretching off into the darkness, but the walls had an eerie green glow emanating from the cracks in the stone work.

"Jheryn, what is this?" Mobius bent down and moved his hands across the green glowing light.

"The priests say it is the life force of the dead passing through the very foundations of the city." Jheryn was looking darker by the moment, the gravity of the situation weighing down on his shoulders.

"Well, let us pray that we can draw on this life force when the time comes." Mobius dusted his hands off and stood, looking down the empty corridor. "I hope the main chamber is down here somewhere?"

"Yes Mobius, a few more minutes and we will be in the main burial chamber." Jheryn moved past Mobius and holding his torch in front of him moved off into the gloom.

They walked for a further ten minutes, until eventually the gloom started to fade and was replaced by a soft flickering light. Jheryn and Mobius stumbled from the cramped tunnel and gazed upon an enormous and brilliant sight. The main chamber was huge, the high walls covered in flaming torches which cast flickering shadows over the mass of coffins that layered the tomb floor. They were set out like temples each carved in magnificent gold, joined by sandy streets that crisscrossed the floor. Mobius and Jheryn walked down a pair of golden steps into the surrounding mausoleums, both in awe of the beauty encased within the chamber. The same silent hum as before echoed through the chamber, a cool breeze occasionally floating down between the rows and chilling their bare skin. The same green glow also seemed to seep from the tombs, the cracks in the gold letting slithers of green light flow out of them.

They walked further, towards the centre of the chamber, all the time an eerie feeling of being watched hanging over them. It was not long before they reached the centre, a clearing of sand bathed in a pillar of light somehow reaching down into the tomb, hundreds of metres below the surface. Mobius dropped his leather pouch into the sand and drew his wand from his belt. Jheryn seemed lost on what to do, gazing around at the gold.

"Jheryn, I'll need some space for the conjuration." Mobius looked at the young lord, who nodded weakly and stepped back into the rows of tombs gazing intently at him.

Mobius started to chant, ancient words flowing from his mouth. He began to sit, crossing his legs in the sand and holding his wand out straight. A deep red hue seemed to flow around him as he chanted, his wand starting to shake uncontrollably. Mobius continued to chant, he had no idea whether or not it was working, and his eyes were jammed shut. Jheryn stood transfixed in the rows, the green light starting to grow deeper and deeper, cracking its way through the tombs around him. Suddenly, the tombs closest to Mobius cracked open violently, the green light pouring forth and beaming onto the ceiling above it.

Out of it, a strange creature unfurled itself from the depths of the tomb. The figure was clad in the robes of the masters of old, the gold aged but still gleaming dimly in the green glow of the broken tomb. Its face was hollow and gaunt, the grey skin preserved by bandages. Its eyes were deep sockets of darkness, with the faintest glow of green from within the depths of the skull. It creaked over the crumbled stone and with a short look at Jheryn it moved off to the centre of the hall. Jheryn stared in disbelief as he saw more and more of the undead creaking from their tombs and surrounding the necromancer shaking with power in the centre of the room.

Mobius was all but surrounded before he could take no more. The green energy and the power of darkness surged from his system and he found himself sweating on his hands and knees in the centre of the room.

"Did it work?" Mobius panted, the strain of such a spell had rendered him blind, a green flashing filling his vision.

"Indeed, Mobius…they are all here"

Mobius could hear the trembling in the young lords voice, and understandable too. The undead had a profound affect on those that had never encountered them before.

"Jheryn, you will need to help me up." Mobius held out his hand, the green glow still hovering around his vision.

"Oh, certainly Mobius" Jheryn's voice was still trembling with fear as he squeezed his way past the undead who did not flinch as he passed them. He reached Mobius and lifted him to his feet.

"Are you ok Mobius that seemed to knock the wind out of you?"

"Yes…I'm fine; just find the small glass bottle in my bag." Mobius's head was searing with pain now.

Jheryn scrabbled around in the leather pouch until he found what he was looking for. A small clear glass bottle filled with a yellow liquid, which seemed to glide inside it like a vapour. Jheryn stood and handed the bottle to Mobius who immediately unsealed the lid and downed the contents quickly. Mobius could feel the concoction slipping down his throat, burning the inside of his mouth with the sickly aftertaste. But, the feeling past, and Mobius soon found he was able to see, blurry still but at least he wasn't blind. He gazed in awe at the amount of undead kings he had summoned before him, around 50 of them all standing ready for his single word.

Mobius stood uneasily, Jheryn silent and stunned at his side. As one the undead turned and looked at him, their bale green eyes staring back through the dusty, still air. Mobius walked forwards into the group, and started to chant slowly, whispering the ancient language under his breath to all around him. As one, the undead warriors drew their ancient rusted swords and turned to face the back of the cave. They broke into a run and headed straight for the sandy wall, and as they met it they faded through like ghosts, into the sand and dirt, to hunt an ancient enemy.

"All we can do now is wait Jheryn. We should return to the surface." Mobius looked at him with tired eyes.

"Of course Mobius, but will they do their duty?" Jheryn was calmer now, the undead passing through had eased his nerves.

"Yes Jheryn…I have forbidden them to harm anyone but the demons outside, Id say your soldiers are in for a bit of a shock." Mobius smiled weakly, the pain still pinching his sides.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XX - Deaths March

Ronan and Drognan walked down the steps of the ancient library as a scream exploded from the city wall behind them. They turned to see three of the palace guards shouting to each other and pointing out into the desert sands. The two looked at each other and as quickly as they could launched themselves towards the towers staircases that led up to the sandy walls tops. As they went, several guards fought their way past them, weapons clanking around on the stairs, dropped in fear of something. They shouted in native tongues, and Ronan couldn't make out what they were saying, their language punctuated with yelps of terror. Drognan on the other hand looked more serious, as if he had understood what was going on. Ronan suddenly remembered what they had talked about, had Mobius managed to raise the dead from their tombs and brought them to the battlefield?

As they broke out through the small wooden hatch onto the wall they saw the enormity of what was facing them. Ronan remembered the scene he had witnessed as he had approached the city a few days ago, the small skirmishing of troops before the city gates. Now however he gazed over a massive scene of devastation. The sand was black with flame and in place of a few huts were Great War machines that were now facing at the ancient door to the city, aimed and ready to fire. Drognan looked unnerved by this, a frown on his old face. Ronan too could see the folly here; there was no way that the city could defend itself against the might of such an army.

Then, it began. The war machines started to fire, great balls of magical energy smashing into the sandstone city walls, smashing it to pieces with ease. The flaming ones smashed the door, it immediately starting to burn furiously as the town guard tried to put it out with buckets of water drawn from the well below the gate house. Drognan sprinted off to their aid, his age now a minor concern as the battle drew his attention. He drew his staff from his back and blasted an icy jet at the door, quelling the flame as furiously as it started. He continued to bark orders in quick native, pointing to the archers upon the wall, and telling them to target the crewmen of the war machine.

Ronan, completely taken by the attack was suddenly drawn back into the action around him as a soldier pushed past him and nearly knocked him from the ledge. Looking round he saw what was scaring the man. Above the war machines, a swarm of bird like creatures were making their way towards the walls, cruel beaks and talons glinting in the mid-day sun. Ronan drew his sword from his side, and placed his armour over his head and hastily fastened it in place. As the first birds swooped down, he ducked towards the cover of the wall, swinging his sword up to put some distance between him and the birds. The swarm enveloped the wall, knocking many soldiers off of the walls and into the street below, where they were picked apart by the now bloodied beaks of the birds.

Ronan shoved himself to his feet, and turned to face the birds nearest him. Two were picking up a soldier, when one turned and with an ear piercing screech launched itself at Ronan. Quickly he raised his sword, as the bird slammed into it and recoiled, dazed. Ronan saw his chance and with the flat of his sword slammed it into the bird, knocking it from the wall. Quickly, he grabbed a crossbow from the floor and aimed it haphazardly at the bird. It was starting to regain control and beginning to flap its wings again. Ronan let the crossbow bolt slam into the bird, the force of the bolt ripping it in half and forcing it backwards towards the ground. Ronan sighed, one down.

More screeches suddenly pierced the sky and several converged upon him, grabbing him unawares by his leather underclothes. Ronan flailed around, trying to break their grip, but the cruel talons had bit into his flesh and was not budging. They lifted him from his feet; Ronan could feel the sword slipping from his grip. He was no out over the town; they had lifted him towards the market stalls in the street below, where he could see soldiers fighting desperately against more of the foul birds. He took his chance; he swung his sword hard, slicing into the leg of the nearest bird. The sword cut cleanly through the bone and skin, and Ronan felt himself fall slightly. The second bird, couldn't hold him, and with a screech let him go, before it was pulled down with him. Ronan plummeted, his sword flying off into the air, before he crashed headlong into a market stall just below him. The wood splintered and the awning fell inwards and with a dull thud he hit the ground, the last thing he saw before he blacked out was a strangely dressed soldier cut down a nearby bird mercilessly and systematically before being joined by others, reinforcements, at last.

Drognan looked out over the walls; he saw Ronan crash into the market stall and gasped. He only hoped the paladin was ok, and the wood had broken his fall. His gaze however was suddenly drawn by something else in the street below him. Several soldiers in strange garment of gold were cutting their way through the birds below, joined all the time by more and more of the figures pouring from the alleyways, bloody weapons grasped in their hands. Drognan realized what was happening, Mobius had succeeded in his quest and had raised the dead lords from their slumber to aid the city. He watched as the undead army marched past the frightened soldiers below and saw them melt through the huge Iron Gate that guarded the city.

Drognan ran to the other side, and looked down into the desert sands. The army was coming out of the sand, from the city itself and from the many sewer pipes that led into the bowels of the city. Mobius had indeed done himself justice, raising so many to their aid. The demonic army was in full retreat, cornered on all sides by the undead forces and systematically butchered by the soldiers of old defending their ancient realm. The war machines were smashed by large blasts of magic, the warped machines bursting into flames in the desert sky. The soldiers of the city cheered around him, lifting their weapons into the air and shouting the names of their ancestors for saving their lives and all within the city.

And, as quickly as they had emerged from the sands, the dead faded. They left bodies in their wake and sinking back into the sand or being carried off on the desert air, their duty done. Drognan sighed in relief, now at least they could continue into the desert and find the horodric items. He looked down into the market street and the destroyed stall where Ronan had fallen. Out of the alley way came Lord Jheryn, supporting Mobius who looked considerably worse for wear, his legs dragging and his head limp. That magic he not meant to be used on such a large scale, no wonder the Necromancer was slipping in and out of pain. He looked closer at the stall, the wood started to move slowly before Ronan smashed his way out, clutching a bloody arm.

Ronan looked round and saw Mobius and Jheryn to his side. He winced a smile at the young lord who hefted Mobius forwards, who was sweating terribly. Ronan looked round and found his sword on the ground. He sheathed it and took it from his belt, using it as a rest for his bruised legs. Gingerly he walked towards Jheryn and helped him support Mobius, who was muttering strangely, his head hung low.

Jheryn turned to look at the paladin. "He fell down as we were leaving, the stress of the spell must be taking its toll again" He looked down at Mobius's face "He is convulsing again, we must get him to Drognan at once".

Ronan heaved Mobius forwards with Jheryn as quickly as they could, Drognan's house just down the streets to the side of the gate. "We must get him help; Drognan was up on the walls." He turned to see Drognan calling them over to his open door, the old man bloody from the battle. "Mobius has done well to save the city, but now we must do our best to save him". They barged into Drognan's house awkwardly and Drognan after looking quickly left and right closed it behind them.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XXI - Planning the end

Ronan and Drognan heaved Mobius onto the wooden table lain out before them. Jheryn looked on with a frown on his face. Mobius had been fine until they had started out of the sewer into the street where he had collapsed in a heap. Drognan too looked worried, checking Mobius's eyes and sighing in disappointment. He turned and looked at the worried Prince and the Paladin who seemed unmoved by anything going on.

"He needs a wyrmwood potion Jheryn, there may be some in the palace, go now and find them" Jheryn hesitated for a second, Drognan stared at him sternly. "My lord, he will not last unless you go." Jheryn found himself immediately and turned to leave, slamming the wooden door hastily behind him, his running could be heard in the stone street outside, followed by the cheers of the soldiers as he passed. Drognan turned and looked at Ronan. "You must go Ronan; you cannot do anything more here. You must go to the palace, persuade the guards if you have too and find what was mentioned in those scrolls." Drognan again gave his stern look. "If you don't, it will be no good if I revive Mobius, we need the location of the tomb."

Ronan sighed and fastened the armour buckles on his shoulder. "You know I do this for the Church and not for Mobius?" He wiped his blade free of blood on a nearby cloth. "Once this is over I will take him to be judged." Drognan nodded. "What should I say to Jheryn, he will no doubt see me as we pass to the palace?"

Drognan looked again at Mobius, the battle seeming to suddenly take its toll on him, draining his energy. "Tell him I sent you, we don't have time to discuss the findings right now. I will tell him everything when he gets here with the potion." He looked back at Ronan who nodded in confirmation. "Now go paladin, we need to find out what is below the palace."

Ronan nodded again and with a quick glance at Mobius walked out into the baking sunlight again. He reasoned to himself that this was all for a good cause. The Church would no doubt not look kindly upon his venture with the necromancer, but by bringing him in for questioning by the Inquisition he would no doubt cover over any thoughts they may have been having about dispelling him from the order. He remembered the first time he had come to the church, atop the hill in the middle of the dark woodland. He had escaped from prison after killing a man in a drunken frenzy. There, father Vittorio had forgiven him and given him a place to stay. Ronan couldn't help feeling like a tool however, for some reason when ever he thought back to that day he didn't understand why he hadn't been given over to the guard immediately. Vittorio always said he had 'a special purpose'.

Ronan caught himself; this wasn't how he should be thinking right now. He shook the thought from his memory and walked on towards the nearing palace. The remnants of the battle were piled in huge mounds by the sides of the road, demonic figures twisted and bloody. However much he hated the necromancer, he could see that they would have been overrun if he hadn't used his power to raise the army. He looked round as he saw someone running towards him, it was Jheryn, a heap of potions hugged to his chest.

"Ronan how is Mobius?" Jheryn was looking worried. Despite him being a lord and protector, Ronan took pity on him. No leader should have to endure what he was going through.

"He is fine Jheryn my lord." Ronan kept on walking past him. "I need to enter the palace; Drognan will fill you in on what we have discussed." He turned from Jheryn's gaze. "I shall see you soon my lord." Ronan continued to walk, breaking into a rough jog as the steps neared.

Jheryn looked at the paladins back, as he ascended the stairs to the palace entrance and talked with the guards. For some reason he felt betrayed that Drognan had not shared this information with him sooner, but realising the circumstances of the occasion he saw that there had been no time before hand. He turned and continued to the small hut, bursting through the doors and looking at the still motionless form of Mobius on the table. Jheryn handed the potions over to Drognan who busily went about preparing something to sooth his pain. Jheryn remembered the days when Lut Gholien had been a somewhat peaceful town. No demons, or monster and the people were happy. He had never felt as stressed in all his time as lord, even in the time of transition between his father and his new order.

Drognan snapped him back into reality. "Jheryn, will you hold him down flat while I give him the potion?" Drognan pointed to the potion in his hands.

"Oh, of course." Jheryn moved to the table and held Mobius down, "Is he likely to be in discomfort?" He looked at Drognan who closed his eyes and didn't say anything.

Drognan opened Mobius'mouth and poured the potion into his throat. Mobius started to convulse slightly and his eyes opened wide and he stared at the ceiling. Jheryn had to fight to keep him still, he was trying to sit up, but Drognan helped him keep him lying still. As soon as Mobius had awoken, he went silent again. Jheryn looked at Drognan.

"Is he ok, was that meant to happen?" Jheryn wondered if the ancient potion master had done something wrong.

"He is fine now" Drognan said, checking Mobius' neck for a pulse. "He only needs to rest now, but I'm not sure how much of an effect the spell had on him, he might have things wrong with him we do not know about." He moved to a nearby chair and sat down, the wood creaking under his weight. "I think I should tell you what I and Ronan found in the library."

Jheryn found a seat nearby and pulled it across the dusty floor to sit next to Drognan. "I would like to know, I am the lord here Drognan, and Ronan seemed cryptic as he passed me. What does he want with the palace?"

Drognan looked at him with weary eyes and prepared to relay all they had learnt. "We found a volume in the library, and ancient text that seemed to detail that there was something below the palace that would tell us of the whereabouts of Tal Rashas' tomb. We do not know what Ronan will find, but it will probably lead us straight to where Diablo has gone." He looked at Mobius. "We only then need to find the Horodric artefacts, and thanks to Mobius we can now leave the city in search of them in the desert."

Jheryn spoke quietly. "This is indeed a long list of things to do. Have you any clues as to the places where the artefacts have been hidden?" The mammoth task ahead of them seemed impossible for four men to accomplish.

"Yes, I have pondered the scrolls and I think I know where to find two of them." Drognan reached into his cloak and pulled out a crumbled map. "The staff I believe to be located somewhere in the Oasis north of the city. There is tales from travellers of an underground hive of insects there that was once visited by the mages of the city many years ago." He turned the map to show Jheryn and pointed to the hastily written notes above the desert landscape. "The second" Drognan said, looking back at the map. "Is located nearby in the desert around the city. It is in an old tomb of your grandfather I think. The scroll hinted at this place as something important and I believe that the staff resides there, guarded by the dead ancestors."

Jheryn was amazed, all this right under his nose and he had never know about it. "And the third?" Drognan had mentioned the staff and the magical cube but nothing of the third part. "What is the last part of the staff?"

Drognan sat back in the wooden chair. "The last part is the headpiece; I think it has been crafted into an amulet by the lords of old."

"Good, so where is it?" Jheryn sensed that something was wrong.

"That is the problem my lord. I don't know." He sighed. "The Lost City is exactly what the description suggests…Lost. There are no records of the city on any maps, and no travellers have ever heard of the place."

Jheryn's smile faded. "In that case, we have lost this fight. If we cannot find the last piece then there is no telling what will happen." He put his head in his hands, his kingdom was in ruins.

"I would not give up yet my lord." Drognan put his hand on the young lord's shoulder. "We can still find the cube and the staff, and I am sure that the other parts will give us some clues."

Suddenly, a noise made them stop. They looked around. Mobius was sat up straight, coughing slightly. "So" he said "What did I miss?"

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XXII - The Tomb.

The musty tomb creaked open, the stone doors sliding back into the ancient walls. A damp smell flowed from the darkness, overwhelming the small man standing in the doorway, torch clutched in hand. He walked over the threshold and stepped onto the cold stone. He felt something below his feet; he looked down in horror to see a carpet of bones strewn across the floor. However, something made him continue, it may have been the tall man standing behind him, but for some reason the tomb beckoned to him, drawing him deeper into the hallways and passages.

The tall man walked past him and pulled down his hood revealing the strange features of his mutated face. The small man had noticed his companion changing over the last few days, his face looking more and more worn and twisted. He seemed to be getting weaker, and yet something inside him was making him continue on. The wanderer was losing the battle with whatever was inside him. He wanderer pushed onwards, something guiding him through the darkness. The small man followed his torch light wavering in the dusty breeze. Around him he could hear the sounds of things in the darkness, cries of pain echoing down the hallways. Something pushed him on though; the wanderer would protect him in this place.

They pressed on for what seemed like an hour. The wanderer stopped at certain times, looking around for something on the painted walls, following some clue. The small man wanted to speak, but as soon as he was about to open his mouth the wanderer pushed on and he had to hurry to catch up. It had been so long since he had eaten properly, the wanderer had not stopped for a good nights rest in weeks, but for some reason despite his hunger he had followed anyway. He remembered the first night they had met in that snowed in tavern deep in the mountains and the hell that he had seen before him. From that point onwards he had been drawn with him, after all there was nothing left for him at home anymore. His goods had been stored in that taverns storeroom; he had nothing left to keep him there, no wife, no children.

The wanderer stopped, and looked to his left down a long corridor. At the end a light sparkled in the darkness, he had found what he was looking for. He smiled in the darkness, it wouldn't be long before he and his brothers would be reunited as one and they could finally break loose and bring destruction to this pitiful plain of existence. His brother Baal had been locked down here for many years, imprisoned by the foul mages of the city above the ground. It was time that he let his brother free to wreak havoc on those that had imprisoned him. He broke into a jog and reached the room at the end of the corridor quickly.

The glittering mantle set into the ground was useless to him; he didn't need the damnable staff to gain entry. He looked at the wall in front of him and found the weak spot. He planted his hands on the wall and closed his eyes. Behind him, the small man was quivering, this was something he had not anticipated, what was his master doing? Slowly a hum echoed around the walls and filled the chamber. The wanderer pressed harder, the stone around his hands starting to blacken and crumble, before suddenly giving way in a blast of red hot power, sending shards of stone flying across the small chamber.

The two stepped back as a howl of wind flowed into the new passage, pulling at them, forcing them in. The wanderer stepped confidently down into the darkness, a glitter of flame could be seen down at the bottom. The small man followed cautiously, maybe this time he really had come too far, he had no idea what he should expect. They walked deeper, the red glow getting steadily brighter until they stepped out onto a dark and disturbing scene. The chamber was alight with dark flame, leaping from a deep crevasse that ran round a centre column of stone. This held a writhing figure, covered in bloody bandages and warped beyond all humanity. He was lashed to the stone obelisk that stood above him by chains that clasped to his wrists. As well as these, a small yellow stone was protruding from his chest; it throbbed and pulsed like a beating heart, the soul stone of Baal.

The wanderer stepped forwards, while the small man cowered in the shadowy recesses behind him. He stepped out onto an ancient wooden bridge that looked like it would collapse at any moment, and yet he walked across fearlessly. The wanderer neared the obelisk and his brother, a smile on his face, soon they would be reunited and they could meet their third brother Mephisto deep in the jungle of Kurast, it was only a matter of time before they would complete their plans.

Suddenly something grabbed at the wanderer and flung him across the chamber where he collided with the stone wall, he looked up, taken completely by surprise, his arm burning. Before him stood a ghostly white figure, garbed in bright armour, angelic wings flowing around him as he landed on the bridge. Tyrael lowered his sword to point at the wanderer.

"NO…I cannot allow you to proceed further Diablo." He walked forwards and stood before the wanderer sword pointed at his neck. "You should have been dealt with many years ago demon."

The wanderer growled and threw himself at Tyrael. They collided and both were sent over the edge of the crevasse towards the lava below. The wanderer grabbed the edge just in time, his finger nails scraping against the stone as he latched on, and looked down. It had not worked; Tyrael regained his flight and rose past him, grabbing him with his angelic tendril like wings and flung him onto the stone before raising his sword again to strike him. The wanderer was quicker still, grabbing Tyrael's gauntleted hand and holding it above himself by mere centimetres. The two struggled, the sword coming closer and closer.

The man looked to his master, fighting this ancient being. He could not let his master die; it was the only thing that had kept him alive for these past months and days. He looked to the obelisk; the figure of Tal Rasha was writhing even more in the presence of this angelic being. Something called out to him; the figure seemed to calling for help, for someone to let him free from his torment. He looked again to his master; he must do something he thought. Quickly he ran across the bridge and stood before the figure that whispered even more, asking for the stone to be removed. He put his hand out, and closed his hands around the yellow gem.

Tyrael sensed something; he turned in horror to see the man pull the stone from Tal Rashas chest. "NO!" he bellowed, taking his concentration from Diablo below him and flying towards the stunned human. He clasped his hand around his neck and lifted him high into the air. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE DONE?" The man was scared, but would not let go of the stone in his hands. "YOU HAVE DOOMED US ALL!" Tyrael threw him to the floor and quickly told him what to do. "You must take the stone to the hellforge, destroy it…you must destroy it!"

He did not have long; Tyrael looked past the man, and saw Baal rising from his stone, breaking the bonds of the obelisk. He opened a portal beside him and grabbed the man. "Go through now, I cannot hold them here for long…GO!" As soon as the man had gone through, thick tendrils wrapped around his arm and his sword slipped from his grasp, pulling him towards the demon Baal that smiled hideously from beneath the bandages.

He looked round and saw that Diablo too had stood and was laughing manically, more tendrils wrapped around his arms and forced him to his knees; however hard he tried he could not break free. The two brothers now stood above him, looking down on him as he struggled hopelessly with the tendrils around him.

"The great Tyrael on his knees before us brother, what a joy for us to witness this moment." Diablo knelt besides him and looked kindly into his brother's sightless eyes. "I trust you are well brother?"

Baal looked back at him, and spoke, his voice deep and husky. "Indeed brother, the torture here has made me stronger, this fools body will serve as an adequate host for the moment." He laughed deeply and felt the power surging back through his mind and body. "But, what of that man who followed you? He has my soul stone."

Diablo smiled. "He is weak my brother, he will do nothing with that stone despite what dear Tyrael here said to him." Diablo stood and turned to the entrance behind him. "I think its time we gave my newest pet a plaything…don't you Tyrael."

Tyrael looked up; the tendrils were sapping the very will from his body. "You…you, will not succeed Diablo; there are those mortals who will bring you to your knees." Tyrael felt the power draining from him slowly. "What ever you do to me will not change your fate. You will die Diablo, and your brothers."

Diablo laughed and looked at his brother. "I do not think so Tyrael, we are more powerful than you know." He watched behind him as a portal opened in reality and a large shape stepped forth from the hell plains, and lumbered forwards. "We do not plan to kill you Tyrael that would be too simple. This is much more fun, and you will begin to feel the pain my brother has felt being locked down here to decades."

Tyrael looked up into the face of a hideous beast, huge claws and an armoured shell protected this beast that stood before him. A guardian of hell, a spawn of some dead soul created into a killing machine. If Baal and Diablo planned to keep him down here they were certain to do so. His power was weak, and these guardians were stronger than all other demons besides the lords.

Diablo bent down again and whispered in Tyrael's ear. "This is Duriel, I'm sure you'll get to know each other very well." He stood and looked to his brother. The portal behind them stood open still, but this time reflected a different scene, one of a jungle clearing deep in the city of Kurast. The two walked into the portal and as it snapped shut plunged the chamber into near darkness.

Tyrael turned and looked to the demon above him. The power had faded from him completely, he was trapped. The beast laughed deeply before bringing his huge claw down towards him. Tyrael's vision flashed as the claw hit his face, and he was plunged into darkness, the sounds of the fire around him fading from his mind.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XXIII - What Lies Beneath

Ronan stepped into the cool marble of the palace entrance. He had not seen this place yet, after all the most he had seen of the city had been during a fight, or down in the dark sewers. The palace was truly magnificent, the marble pillars and murals showing some of the cities finest moments, usually of battles against warlords across the desert plains. He had to admit, Jheryns father had been a powerful and ruthless leader, nothing like his son. He walked on, admiring the murals when he heard something behind him, someone running across the marble floor, echoing around the room. He turned to see Harisha running towards him.

She stood before him, panting, her wounds cleared but she still looked shocked. Ronan bent down to look to her face. She was crying slightly. "What is wrong?" He said calmly.

Harisha said nothing, but hugged him quickly. Ronan didn't know what to do, he tried to back away but she held on to him. "You cannot come with me Harisha, it will be too dangerous." He pushed her away and held her in front of him, looking deeply into her eyes. "You should find Drognan and Jheryn, they will look after you". Ronan looked up and saw the guards running towards them; how she had got past them he didn't know.

"Paladin, is she bothering you?" The guards stopped next to them and frowned, slightly embarrassed at the situation.

"No, its ok." He looked at the guards menacingly. "Make sure she gets to Drognan and Jheryn as soon as possible, I don't want her lost in this city." He looked down at her face again, she had stopped crying. He let her go and the guards took her by the arm and led her away. She seemed hurt by being shunned by Ronan, but he knew it was for the best.

He turned to the palace before him, and the object of his attention, the small staircase in the corner leading down into the older part of the palace that the guards had talked about. Jheryn had apparently closed it after his father had died. The harem beneath the palace had been a horrible place according to the palace guards, and Jheryns father had made the women live more like slaves down there rather than human beings. Ronan didn't want to know what dwelt down there, after many years of being locked tight, away from the light of day. He approached the staircase and looked down to the wooden trapdoor beneath him. Slowly he drew his sword and descended towards the trap, before bending down and grabbing the rusty iron ring that served as the handle.

With a heave he lifted the wooden trap, dust and foul air flowed from the darkness. Ronan gagged, it smelt like a disturbed graveyard, or a heated battlefield. Something was wrong here; there should be no one down here, dead or living. Jheryn's guards had been adamant that they had cleared the harem of both the enslaved women and anything unnatural that may have existed down there. They had told Ronan that he would be lucky to find anything down there, let alone anything that would give him a clue to the whereabouts of a lost tomb.

Ronan descended anyway, drawing his hand across his mouth, the foul smell was stinging his eyes. The only light was coming from the trap door above him, around him down the corridors there was nothing but darkness. He looked to his left and saw a rusty torch attached to the wall. He reached up and grabbed it; there was still cloth inside it. He ventured back up the stairs behind him and touched a nearby torch above him with the one from below in the harem. It burst to flames quickly, at least now he had some light with which to see now. Descending again the surroundings were now alive to him. The floor was paved in the marble of the palace above, but was covered in a thick carpet of dust, now it would quiet his metal boots, in case anything was actually down here.

Ronan walked on to his left, keeping close to the wall in case he had to feel his way out. Suddenly something from the darkness made him spin round. A large thudding echoed from in front of him, like footsteps of some great beast. He looked down at the floor and saw that where the carpet of dust should have been there were large footprints, hundreds crossing over each other, and all the size of his chest at least. He decided not to stick around. Turning back towards the walled corridor he started into a light jog, looking around at the darkness in case anything was about to leap towards him from the gloom. He had not been going a mere minute before the noise came again, this time directly before him. Ronan looked to his torch; the last of the cloth fizzled and burned, what a time for it to leave his aid.

The darkness didn't last however, suddenly the torches around him blazed into life, the flame licking from the brackets along the wall and roaring defiantly. Ronan span round, looking for what ever was around him, and yet nothing was before him, even in the bright light now beaming around. He threw the burnt out torch to the ground and pulled the shield from his back, fastening the leather around his gauntleted hands and carried on down the corridor. The noise came again, this time closer, and this time the creator made it known. Ronan span as a huge club slammed down in front of him, smashing through the marble beneath his feet, while blood splattered from the club itself and covered him from head to toe. Ronan looked to the bearer of the weapon and saw a gigantic beat roaring besides him.

The beast was as big as two of him, stretching up to the ceiling of the harem, the top of his bald head just brushing the top. It had the look of an ogre, and yet its deep red skin created the image of something from the depths of hell itself. Its huge arms, the size of tree trunks held the massive club before it, the most disturbing part of the beast. Lashed to the club were bodies, bodies of men and women, with vacant expressions and blood pouring from their skin were tied with chains to a large piece of wood. Ronan muttered a prayer under his breath and tried to take his eyes from the dead bodies glaring down at him with white eyes. He didn't have time to dwell though; the beast roared and swung the club yet again, this time Ronan blocked, but the strength of the beast buckled the shield inwards, forcing him to the ground. The beast stood over him and raised his club again to strike. Ronan saw his chance. He lunged forwards and stabbed upwards into the beast's stomach, the blade slicing deep into its flesh and jarring as it struck bone.

The beast wailed in pain and started to totter backwards, crashing into a nearby pillar which crumbled under his weight. Ronan drew the sword out as the beast collapsed to the floor, dark black blood pouring over the floor. Ronan stood straight and breathed heavily, more thudding and roars seemed to be echoing from around him, he had to find the clue before they got to him. One was enough. He looked to the shield on his arm, buckled inwards completely. He unlashed the leather and let it drop to the floor, pain suddenly shooting through his arm, realising that the shield had punctured the armour of his arm, a trickle of blood rolling down his plated arm. He shrugged it off and started off down the corridor, the sound of the beasts thudding around him, they were close. He stopped and looked behind him; the beasts were behind him sure enough, fighting each other to get towards him, only a few hundred feet away. Ronan swore and turned again to the corridor before him. He sprinted on for a while, the sound of the beasts still on his heels before suddenly the wall stopped on either side, he was trapped, a dead end.

He looked around him, seeing a trellised wall to his right; he risked a glance behind him the beasts were nearby. Ronan peered through the trellis, and saw something he had missed on the first look. A shimmering portal, not unlike a way gate was glowing in the fire light. Around it were small beasts, about the size of the Fallen demons that now infested Westmarch. Ronan took his chance, better to try and escape this place rather than die down here in the nest of such beasts. Suddenly a question rose in his mind, how had these beasts got here? Had they been locked down here by the guards, or was this gate the reason for the beasts around him now. He shook it from his mind; he had no time for questions. Stepping backwards he concentrated and launched himself at the wooden trellis before him, splintering the wood and he crashed through. He landed on the other side, just as the beasts behind him clattered into the wall around the trellis, too big to fit through the gap. This wasn't stopping them however, and they continued to beat at the wall around it, the marble crumbling rapidly.

Ronan now realised he had got the attention of more than one group, the fallen like creatures now turned and gibbered at him, pointing knarled fingers at the intruder and shrieking loudly. Ronan looked to the portal, the sounds of the beast around him coming towards him. He took his chance and ran full pelt towards the portal, smashing aside the beasts before him as they clambered onto his shoulders dragging him down. He reached the gate and flung himself through, shrieking ringing in his ears.

Ronan landed hard on the other side, nothing was on top of him, and the shrieks had faded. He turned quickly, expecting the horde to have followed, but nothing was there. Even the portal had now changed, to a deep purple. He suddenly realised that the area around him looked a lot different from the palace harem. He looked to his left, and found himself looking out over a sharp edge of the marble path he was now on, that dropped away into blackness. He froze, standing slowly as to not fall from the edge. He realised he was on a walkway of sorts, hung in suspension by something, or someone. All around him were similar paths that crossed and intertwined across a vast expanse of stars and night. He had no idea where he now was, but this had to be the place that the book had talked about.

Suddenly a booming voice echoed around the strange landscape, and nearly shook Ronan from the thin pathway. "Welcome Ronan, welcome to the realm of my creation…find me if you can".

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XXIV - Dead World

Mobius blinked his eyes, trying to shake the images from his sight. The rituals effects had disappeared almost completely, and yet there was still a lingering trace of the power that he had tried to invoke to raise the dead from their eternal slumber. Drognan and Jheryn had told him all he needed to know about the past hour or so, the Palace, the desert items and the siege that he had just slept through. He realised that the power had been great, but he didn't reckon that it would have had such an effect on his body. He felt drained, his arms ached and his head pulsed. But, he would have to shake off this discomfort, there were things to do. He tried to stand, Drognan and Jheryn standing quickly to grab his arms as he began to stand awkwardly.

"I'm not weak gentlemen" Mobius croaked. "Look, just let me try and stand by myself." He waved them off him and tried to find his balance. It still felt awkward, but at least he was standing up now, he at least had movement again. Mobius had thought the worst when he had collapsed in the tunnels of the sewer, having to be dragged out by Jheryn.

"Mobius, are you ok to travel? I know that this is quite quick but we must find the relics before the wanderer is gone." Drognan was stuffing the scroll from the table back into his cloak and reaching for his stave. Jheryn too had grabbed his ornate scimitar from the table and was fastening it to his belt.

"I should be fine Drognan, just let me rest a few more minutes." Mobius could feel the motion returning to his legs, it was rather unpleasant a feeling, the cold draining from his limbs. But he would have to grin and bear it.

Suddenly, the house door burst open revealing the woman Mobius had seen with Ronan a couple of days ago flanked by two annoyed guards. They entered and moved her to a seat near the door before walking to Jheryn and whispering something in the young lord's ear. Then as soon as they had arrived, they left, casting a frown towards the woman as they went. Mobius could see that she was incredibly scared, wringing the edge of her dress between her fingers and looking around at them all quickly. Mobius wondered how Ronan was doing; however much he despised the Paladin he couldn't doubt the fact that he was a strong asset here and a much needed ally, even if he was here to bring him to justice for his necromancy.

Jheryn walked to the woman's side and bent down to talk to her in the native language. Drognan looked annoyed at something, but the woman had immediately started talking, speaking very fast and with obviously some importance. Jheryn waited for her to finish before turning to Drognan as if looking for his approval. Drognan nodded grudgingly before leaving through the open door and standing outside.

Mobius looked at Jheryn. "Would you mind telling me what's going on?" Mobius didn't like people discussing things in a different language in front of him; it made him uneasy as if they were somehow talking about him. He knew it was irrational but he couldn't help those little traits in his personality, after all he was shunned by society after practising necromancy so he should have been used to people talking about him behind his back.

Jheryn stood and motioned for both of them to follow him outside. "Harisha here thinks she can help us with our problem." Jheryn noticed the look on Mobius' face. "I know, I know…it's not an ideal situation taking her with us, but she says that she was born in the Lost City, and knows the way back there."

Mobius realised why Drognan had been so disapproving, and as they exited through the front door he noticed that he still had the same expression on his face. Mobius whispered in Jheryn's ear. "Do you think this is wise? She was after all rescued from a bandit camp. How can we trust her?"

Jheryn looked stern all of a sudden. "She did not seem like she was lying, and I will take her word for it." He composed himself. "After all, we have you with us and Drognan. If anything does happen we can deal with it." Jheryn seemed to have regained his confidence, and it looked like there was no persuading him any different on the matter at hand.

Mobius sighed and looked down the street. It was still a mess, carts and stalls ruined and the odd body of one of the bird creatures hanging from a house roof, guards trying to get them down. Some part of him wanted to have fought in that battle, shown Ronan that he wasn't all that bad. He turned to Drognan. "So, how do we get to the Dead Tomb?"

Drognan pointed ahead of him; down the street were three horses. They were large black stallions, war horses of Jheryn's army. Drognan smiled as he saw Mobius' expression of disgust. "I take it you're not fond of horseback riding?"

Mobius grimaced. "Not really my friend. I had a bad experience with a horse almost a year ago now…they are most uncomfortable." He remembered the moment when the horse had flung him from the saddle on the road to his home town; it had then bolted leaving him stranded in the woods. It had not been a pleasant time.

"How would you prefer to travel then Mobius?" Drognan was enjoying this moment; it had been a long time since he had talked with anyone about something that didn't involve war or demons.

"I don't like many forms of fast travel Drognan, way gates and portals are better, but still mildly uncomfortable, especially after a large lunch." He laughed; he hadn't done that since he had escaped from the clutches of Andariel with Dorn many weeks ago. Mobius secretly hoped that Dorn would come back to his side soon, he could use the big mans axe at a time like this.

The trek into the desert was not hard. The demons that usually frequented these parts had been chased from the desert sands and gone into hiding. The four riders travelled for about an hour, the beating sun blasting down on them. Mobius had never felt such heat in all his years; he was amazed that people lived out in this hostile environment. But, thinking to himself he reckoned that most places in Sanctuary were no longer safe, and that Lut Gohlien had survived for so long because of the people's adaptation to the environment around them. The tomb they were searching for was deep in the centre of the desert plains, and was hard to find. But, after many minutes searching they found the tell tale signs of a tomb.

As they rode, they noticed that stones were starting to show through the desert floor. The covering of sand was revealing a pathway of sorts. They followed it to the entrance, which rose from the sand like a mighty obelisk. It was indeed decorative, with powerful and distinctive murals covering its outer walls. The door itself was a sheet of strong stone, with a centre lock that formed the shape of a sun. Jheryn had explained that this was the sign of the old lords of Lut Gohlein and that he had studied them as a child. Most of the tombs in the area bore a similar symbol. They consisted of the moon, the stars and the example from this tomb being the sun.

The old lords had been worshipped like Gods, and it was no wonder that an artefact of such importance was buried in one of their tombs. After all Drognan had explained that these tombs were sealed by powerful magic after they were finished and the bodies lain to rest. No one could enter without the proper key to fit the ancient lock. Mobius had guessed straight away that Drognan had one of these keys, and sure enough he produced it and got to work on the ancient door.

It wasn't long before the door was opened, and a foul blast of damp air blew from the interior as if the tomb itself was groaning with age. They had decided on the way that Jheryn would stay outside with Harisha, she after all did not want to enter the tombs and Jheryn was the only one she trusted enough to stay with. Mobius and Drognan were the obvious choices for entering the tomb. Drognan had a unique knowledge of the tombs themselves and had even found a map of the plans drawn up many years previous. He hoped that it would mean they wouldn't have to spend many more hours in this place. Mobius however was less worried. He knew that the main sources of worry down here would be the dead, but after his spell in the ancient tomb below the city he was ready for anything, and knew that many of the undead would be simple to control and master to his will.

Leaving Jheryn and Harisha behind, Mobius and Drognan made their way into the darkness of the tomb. Despite the open doors, the tomb had an eerie black mist that hung above their heads and after a few metres into the tomb, it turned to pitch black, blotting out the sun from behind. Drognan held his staff high and lit the end, Mobius did the same, lighting a torch with his wand tip. The two lights cut through the darkness with ease, and allowed them to move on. The same murals covered the walls as before, seeming to show a story of the lord buried here. They told of a warrior king who vanquished an ancient enemy of some sorts, from a plain of Hell. His army of demons had covered the lord's land in darkness, but with the power of light and the sun god, the lord had apparently turned the tide of battle and forced the demons back through the gate from which they had come.

They walked for what seemed like hours, both of them silent as death itself. Around them small murmurs and whispers reached out from the darkness, and Mobius swore they were being followed. However, every time they turned round nothing was there. What made it worse were the murals around them. They were becoming worn and decayed, scratches and blood seemed to be covering them at certain points. As if something had fought down here. Drognan had said that no one could get down into these tombs, but Mobius was starting to doubt him. It wasn't long before the found the source of the crimson arches that covered the walls. As they rounded a corner, they came upon a ladder reaching down from the ceiling to the tombs floor. Light was trickling through in tiny slits; someone had found the tomb and broken in from above. On the floor lay the broken bodies of what must have been bandits or tomb robbers. Their skeletons twisted and snapped, large cut marks across the skulls. Drognan seemed more worried now, and yet despite this he walked on. Mobius was about to protest but Drognan had disappeared ahead of him. Looking around he decided that this wasn't a good place to get lost in, and so sped after him, casting a final look at the broken bodies and hoping that wasn't going to happen to them.

When Mobius caught up, he realised that they had found the chamber they were looking for. Drognan bent low over his map and examined the drawings. This was the place. The room was larger and grander than the rooms before it; it had no murals on the walls, but was covered in fading worn gold leaf that peeled from the sandy walls. In the centre was a large tomb that was flanked by two dog headed men who cradled urns in their stone arms. Above the tomb however was the object of their interest. A small stone box was suspended by chains, covered in runes and mystical writing that Mobius could not recognise. They stepped forwards towards the centre looking around for whatever had slain the bandits behind them.

Suddenly, as they stepped towards the tomb itself a booming voice echoed around the room. "What do you seek?" It seemed to be coming from everywhere, through the walls, through the floor, booming into their minds.

Drognan composed himself and shook the ringing from his ears. "We seek the Horodric Cube my lord." He waited; the ringing still shaking the stone around them, where was this mysterious voice?

This time however, the voice had a speaker. From the wall in front of them a ghostly figure filtered through the sandy tomb walls. The figure looked a lot like Jheryn, but much older and wiser. His skin was decayed and falling from his bones, and his eyes were gleaming red. He bore the same image of the lord in the murals as they had descended into the tombs inner bowls. He spoke again, but this time the booming resonance was replaced with a whispered echo. "You seek the cube? Why?"

This time Mobius cut in. "We are seeking to gain entry to the Tomb of Tal Rasha."

The spectre hung motionless in the air, obviously contemplating what had just been said. "Tal Rasha was locked away many years ago; it is good for him to stay that way." The spectre floated forwards and landed before them.

Drognan knelt before the ghost and looked up into his cold, dead eyes. "We understand that the Tomb is sealed. But one of the prime evils Diablo seeks to free his brother from the prison of the lord's body. If we do not stop him then there will be many more perils in this land."

The spectral lord walked and sat in a chipped stone throne located on before the far wall. He sat and ran his skeletal hands through a long whispery beard. "What you speak is the truth. But I cannot let you take the Cube without doing something for me."

Mobius and Drognan looked at each other, for some reason they felt a slight unease about being asked to do a dead man a favour. Mobius looked back at the lord. "What would you have us do?"

The lord stood again and walked towards Mobius, smiling. "I wish you to rid my tomb of a monster that has disturbed me and my followers for many days." It pointed down the path they had just come. "Down there lies the broken bodies of those thieves, and as much as I enjoy their passing, I did not do it." The spectre looked annoyed all of a sudden; the air grew colder around them. "There is a beast down here that came from above and made shelter here. My minions cannot hurt it. But, if you rid my tomb of this beast I will grant you the Cube."

Mobius looked at Drognan, giving him a look that signified that this was the only way they would get anything done down here. Mobius turned back and nodded to the dead king. "We will do it lord." They stood and backed away from the king.

"Good, I will wait here for you." The king turned and walked back to the throne, taking a seat and looking at them in waiting.

Mobius and Drognan turned and walked back down the way they had come, stopping besides the corpses of the dead bandits. Drognan had an idea of what this creature was, but if it could hold its own against the minions of this undead lord then what hope did they stand. Mobius was having a similar thought, even with his new found power he doubted he could hold back such a demonic force that could outdo an ancient lord. They walked on for a while, noticing that slowly but surely the flaming torches on the walls were dimming and flickering less. They could hear things moving around in the darkness, just beyond their eyesight. What ever was down here possibly had more than one follower. Mobius felt a chill run down his spine; something had stepped into the corridor behind them.

They both stopped, Drognan touched the end of his staff and a red hue burst at the end. Mobius drew his sword and wand, letting the power flow into his wand and crackling with energy. They looked at each other, and as one turned to face what was behind them. They let of the blasts of energy from their weapons, the flame slamming into something in front of them. Mobius' bone spikes from his wand dug deep into something too and a scream echoed from the foe. The sudden blast of light illuminated the creature for a second revealing a horrible sight.

The creature was a deep blood red in colour, with bright yellow eyes gleaming from beneath a furrowed and horned brow. The creature had long sharp claws, curved like sickles, and despite its humanoid appearance looked more like a werewolf of legend. It roared, the bones spiking from its chest, and a burn mark on its side and charged at the two of them. It burst past, sending them both flying into the walls to their sides. Mobius hit the wall with a thud and fell to the floor, Drognan took the creature's full force, it's long curved claws digging into his face and spinning him round. He hit the floor and shuddered a second before lying still.

Mobius growled and stood, using the wall as support. The beast had stopped and turned to face him once again, it seemed to be laughing. Mobius sheathed his sword and took a collection of bones from his pouch. The beast stood there motionless, waiting for him to make a move. Mobius let the bones fall to the floor, and waved his wand above his head. Slowly the bones circled around him and shot to his body, forming a shell of bone armour around him. The beast growled and stalked forwards, keeping low in a hunting stance. Mobius drew his sword again, and pointed it at the beasts head.

It leaped at Mobius, but this time he was quicker. He stepped to the side and the beast flew past him. Quickly he raised his sword and cut at the creature as it passed, blood flying from the wound. The beast landed awkwardly and stumbled slightly. Mobius noticed he had done more damage that he had thought, the gash appearing right across the beast's right side. It lopped sideways before roaring and standing to its full height. It quivered the very stone around them, bringing down the older parts of the passageway. It charged at Mobius, its mouth open revealing a set of yellowing sharp teeth.

Mobius saw his chance. He lunged and slammed his sword into the beast's mouth, feeling it jar as it hit the back of the skull. He let go just as it passed him, and saw it slump to the floor in a skid. Mobius turned and looked at the twitching body of the animal. He walked over and stood above it, looking down into the fading yellow eyes swimming in dark blood. He put his wand to the beast's temple and looked away, with a short blast the twitching stopped. He turned to look for Drognan. The potions master was lying where he had fallen, a pool of blood seeping from the gash on his face. Mobius walked over and turned him to face him, it was a mess. The claws had raked right across his face, ripping the skin from the bone and digging deep trenches in his skull. Mobius checked his breathing, nothing.

Suddenly, Drognan coughed, blood ejecting from his mouth. He grabbed Mobius' hand and drew him close, his eyes now wide and flickering under the blood. "I…a…dyi…ta…the…scro…" His words were almost incomprehensible, but he gripped something in his cloak pocket and drew it out. Mobius looked at the wad of papers and understood. Drognan choked again, before falling limp in Mobius' arms. Mobius closed his eyes and felt himself scream inside. This was the second time someone had died because of him. The death of the rouge Emilia had hit him hard, but losing Drognan, their only link to the findings in the library and also the person that had brought him back from the brink of death was too much.

Mobius stood and looked back down the hallway. He could see the ghostly light of the lord waiting for him. Gathering the papers from Drognan's silent body he took one last look at his friend and walked away. He couldn't let himself crack, people were counting on him.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XXV - Puzzles and Stars

Ronan stood, his metal plate boots clinking on the marble pathway. The voice had faded away in laughter, and now he felt himself suspended above utter darkness, permeated only by the stars that looked like holes into other world, or back to his own. Ronan looked forwards, the path seemed to stretch on for miles, and he could see no end. It was like he was looking into an endless set of mirrors, a haunting place filled with things only the Gods could speak of. He checked his side. His sword was still at his side, and remembered his shield was now crumpled back in the harem. He would have to go on; the portal behind him was shut. His only method of escape was to beat this nightmare and find what Drognan had sent him to find.

He put his right foot forwards, and suddenly the marble fell away beneath his feet. Ronan swayed, trying to grab something behind him and only just caught his balance. He looked down below him. The marble tiles had disappeared into the dark. Sweating he looked ahead of himself again, now he saw what he had to do. On some of the tiles before him were small prints in golden lettering. They had symbols upon them not unlike those he had seen in one of the ancient tomes that Drognan had given him. He tried to remember what they meant, it was something about safety, but he couldn't be sure.

He took his chance, and stepped onto the tile. Again it gave way. Now he remembered, that symbol meant danger. Composing himself he walked out onto the unmarked tiles and walked as far as he could, always looking down at the gold lettering. It seemed like an age before he finally found a significant mass of this floating world. The area was the size of a small house, and held small golden torches in the corners. He had not seen this place before, and turning back to see where he had come he noticed that the portal was as close to him as it had been almost ten minutes ago. Now he understood why the Church feared this magic, it was dark and twisted. He looked for the next pathway; it led down to the east. It seemed the only way. He walked forwards and found himself looking down of the pathway into what seemed like the infinite abyss. He sighed, how on earth should be reach the other side. He knelt and looked up at the starry sky. He knew that someone was watching him and finding his puzzlement most amusing, which was pushing him even more to find out what he should be doing.

Ronan put his hand out and felt before him, seeing if some kind of path was there, but not visible. He felt something beneath his gauntleted hands, as cold as the marble beneath him, a clever trick, and yet still dangerous for those that dared to cross. This was what his teacher had said when he had to take a leap of faith on his journey. He stood and prepared to run, there was no use trying to do this slowly he would only stop and fall. He walked backwards and readied to run. Quickly he sprinted forwards and launched himself onto the waiting path, it was strange a feeling, walking seemingly on air. He kept running, only slightly loosing his footing. But, keeping his eyes forwards he managed with a last leap to hit the other side of the dark chasm. Again, the same large platform awaited him, now what.

He caught his breath and walked to the centre of the platform. There lay a small stand where a book stood; quite still, its pages open at the centre, a golden place marker between the faded papers. Ronan took a look; it was the same shaped language as he had seen before. There was no way he could decipher this. Suddenly he heard a sound behind him, metal on marble, and the snapping of what could only be a portal. Slowly he turned and looked at what was now with him on the platform. Before him stood a shaggy beast, part man, part ram, wielding a massive axe. The beast was almost twice his size and was as black as the starry sky that framed him. The thing breathed heavily and hefted its axe onto its broad shoulders and pointed behind Ronan to the book.

"Ronan, if you seek to best the beast then you must solve the puzzle of the book." The mysterious voice was almost taunting him. "You have done well to get this far, but now you must beat my guardian and find me to claim what you seek, and even then will I give it to you?"

Ronan looked down at the book. "How can I solve something I can't even read?" He yelled at the heavens. The brutish beast behind him snarled and let its axe slam into the marble, grating piercingly.

The voice cackled. "That's part of the riddle Ronan…" It trailed off, echoing slightly in the darkness before stopping all of a sudden. The beast seemed to be laughing too now, its mouth open in a sneer, yellowing, broken teeth showing over its fat tongue.

Ronan could take no more; he would be here for days, weeks even if he tried to solve his puzzle. He turned and drew his sword. The beats immediately stopped laughing and grunted. Ronan smirked; it was time to fight his way through. He held his sword before him and charged at the behemoth, but as he did the beast blocked easily and sent him flying across the surface of the platform, his armour creaking with the force of the blow. Ronan spat blood and forced himself to stand, no way he was getting him with a forwards attack. Ronan knew what he had to do. He noticed the beast was standing very close to the edge of the platform, maybe if he could get the beast to swing with all of his momentum he could force it closer and get it off the edge.

Ronan walked forwards, as the beats swung his axe he ducked it deftly before running under its outstretched arms. He reached its back and slid ducked again as the beast turned. The axe barely cleared his head before Ronan grabbed the hilt of his sword in two hands and drove it deep into the beast's stomach. With all his strength he pushed the beast closer to the edge; it was now wailing in a deep tone, and clubbing his back with the shaft of its axe. Ronan had to do all he could to stop himself from falling unconscious under the blows. Slowly but surely the beast reached the edge of the marble platform, and with one final push the beast began to totter. Ronan reached for his sword, but the weight of the beast was pulling it over the edge. He let go, swearing under his breath as the weapon slipped from his grip and disappeared with the beast.

Standing back from the edge he felt the crushing blows taking effect. He shook himself and took off his armour; it was bent and crushed, sticking into his yet to fully heal body. His leg still pained him. He was about to collapse as he dropped the heavy armour, when the voice returned.

"That was not how I imagined it to turn out Ronan, but you have bested my guardian none the less…step through" The last words were filled with contempt. To his left, Ronan saw a shining portal open. He dropped the last of his armour and clad in his tattered leathers he stepped through.

Ronan stepped out onto another marble paved platform. However, this time the entire thing was ringed by huge archways that hung above him, and seven portals gleaming underneath them each with a different symbol above there heads. He looked to the centre of the platform and the man who had spoken and mocked him all this way. The man was old, and whispery locks of grey hair sticking out at angles like some mad man. He was garbed all in blue, with gold trimming around his extravagant cloak.

"Welcome" He said. He sounded a lot weaker without the magnification of the realm before to echo his voice. "You seek the tomb?"

Ronan struggled, the dazed feeling still hanging over him. "I need it to find Diablo, he threatens to let Baal out on this plain of existence and wipe us from it."

The man smiled. "There is no hope paladin, Diablo has already done what you say and Tyrael is trapped in his tomb…its over."

Ronan looked at him, the colour draining from his face. "But…you will perish too if you don't help us!"

"You are mistaken Ronan…I will survive, this world will protect me from the storm that Diablo and the Prime Evils will bring down on your world. I am safe." He smiled again, his eyes filled with a maniacal energy.

Ronan shook himself again and frowned. "If you won't do anything then I will! If its truly over then it wont matter if you give me the tombs location!"

The man smiled again. "Ohh, I have better plans for you. I know how much you enjoy puzzles." He stepped forwards and held his staff before him. "You seek the tomb so much, even though it is futile. For that I will let you into the Valley of the Kings. But, you must decipher the tombs for yourself. You better be quick."

Ronan yelled in fury, feeling his emotions get the better of him. He charged at the man, arms outstretched ready to rip his throat clean out. But as he rushed forwards he felt himself suspended in mid air, he struggled but he couldn't reach the cackling man.

"So much anger Ronan…now I see why the Church uses you as their sword arm, for the time being anyway." Ronan froze, but as he was about to open his mouth he was flung through one of the open portals, and as he slipped through and it snapped behind him those last words echoed in his mind.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XXVI - A Hornets Nest

It was a subdued party that left the mouth of the tomb where Drognan had fallen. Mobius said nothing as he gave the cube to Jheryn and pulled himself onto his horse. Drognan's blood was still on his clothes and skin; he could feel something digging at his insides. Every time Jheryn tried to speak to him he hissed and held his hand up, he wasn't up for talking right now, even though he knew he should. He knew it was his fault that Drognan had died, if he had been quicker, taken the beast down before it had lunged they would have been fine.

They rode on for a while; Jheryn wasn't sure whether or not to tell Mobius that he thought they should head back. Harisha was looking as distressed as ever, she had not let Jheryn help her onto her horse when they had left. He had a feeling that she had suffered badly at the hands of her captors. He had remembered what the women of the harem had looked like when he had found them below his palace, he had felt so ashamed. He wished that Harisha would let him talk to her, but she only spoke when they reached a landmark she recognised, so they wandered on regardless.

Harisha was lost, she knew certain landmarks, but everything seemed so different to her now. She remembered the fateful night they had been rushed out of their home in the Lost City and fled on their way to Lut Gohlien. The beasts had ransacked their town and killed her father as he defended them. She had never forgotten that moment, when she had seen her father fall to the ground, the cold stare in his eyes. They had run for miles and miles into the desert, and the city had been so close. But, as they stopped for water the bandits had taken her, and slain her mother. She had been twelve at the time; no-one should have seen the things she had witnessed, not in their darkest nightmares.

They rode on still, following Harish's directions silently before finally reaching the end of their quest. The luscious swampy oasis spread out before them like a magical Eden. It stretched for about a mile in every direction, and in the centre lay the mystical pool. The islands of greenery were surrounded by the sea of sand, which as they looked down was filled with bugs winding their way across the cooling sands in the night air. Jheryn pulled himself higher on his horse, he hated bugs. Harisha had done the same, but Mobius had slid from his saddle and started down the slope to a large mound that sat before the edge of the lake. Cautiously Harisha and Jheryn followed, still on horseback and for the first time in about a day Mobius spoke.

"We are here, you should stay outside." Mobius drew his sword and wand and looked back at them, Drognan's dried blood still on his face and clothes.

"Mobius, you can't go in alone. You don't know what's inside!" Jheryn stood uneasily on the sandy carpet, crunching bugs beneath his feet.

"You hate bugs Jheryn, just stay here and protect Harisha." Mobius touched the end of his wand with a finger and let it burst into a red hot flame…he pointed it at the ground and let out a jet of flame. "I'll be fine." He walked forwards to the gaping hole. "Don't wait up, find the Lost City and stay safe."

Jheryn ran forwards and grabbed Mobius' shoulder. "You can't leave us here! You are the powerful one, without you we won't be able to defend ourselves!"

Mobius turned quickly and glared into Jheryn's eyes. "You are a swordsman yes?" He didn't even give him time to reply. "Well watch over her and find the city. The quicker we finish this the quicker I can go home!" He turned again, breathing heavily and walked towards the entrance way.

Jheryn didn't know what to say, he had never seen Mobius so angry. "Ok…but I don't like this. Be safe." He turned and ushered for Harisha to follow him, she lingered for a second before following in his wake and mounting the waiting horse.

Mobius stopped at the entrance and heard them gallop away slowly across the sand. All the days' happenings were falling on top of him, but he knew that Drognan wouldn't have wanted him to stop. He had to do this for him, and for himself. Their horses disappeared into the haze and Mobius turned his attention back to the insects crawling beneath his feet. He hated bugs, but something inside him knew he was going to have to master another fear if he was to claim the staff from within this ruin. He looked down at his wand, crackling with energy, feeding from his conscience thoughts, and his shining sword still gripped tightly in his hand. He had the weapons, now all he needed was the courage.

The tunnels were covered in a thick layer of slime as he passed deeper into the warren of these huge beasts. Mobius reckoned to himself that these things must be almost twice his height and there was no telling of their length. They had dug these burrows in a worm like fashion, the walls bearing the markings of movement through the sand. The green substance hung from the walls like a weird marker. It glowed in the dark and Mobius could easily find his way in the gloom, his eerie guides leading the way. The noises were the scariest things down here. The short sucking of the tunnels, drawing in moist air from above, the dripping from the rooftops above his head, the Oasis above feeding down through the sandy ground. All were more terrifying than what he knew was ahead. After all he could battle the creatures, but if the roof collapsed or he went to deep he was done for.

After about half an hour of wandering the passages he noticed that the tunnel started to go deeper into the ground, the air was staler here but he was ok for the moment. It was when he would have to resort to magic to keep him alive that he would be worried. He reached a large hole in a wider chamber located at the end of the tunnel. It dropped down suddenly, with no telling of edges to climb. It would be a leap of faith or turn back. He knelt on the soggy sand and felt his left hand slip in something. Looking down he saw that he had plunged his hand straight into a pool of the green florescent slime, great he thought, no way of not being noticed now. He sighed and looked out over the edge into the hole. A soft grinding was echoing from the hole now, shaking the sandy walls around him. Cautiously Mobius backed away from the edge, it was growing in succession now, vibrating the walls and cracking the ground beneath his feet.

Suddenly, from the hole a large creature blast from the sand and smashed onwards into the ceiling above him, knocking Mobius against the tunnel walls. It was going so fast Mobius could make out nothing but the blur of orange and black that the creature was coloured in. He stood uneasily, the beast's large form still following its head up into the ceiling like some giant worm or snake. Mobius looked closer, keeping his distance from the beast, noticing sharp claw like legs sticking from the sides of the creature, obviously digging their way into the sand and propelling the creature at such speed. Suddenly, as quickly as it had started the tail end of the creature disappeared up into the ceiling, a trail of slime falling in its wake around the hole, forcing Mobius to jump back from the edge once again. He took a cautionary look up into the hole now in the ceiling; these beasts were huge beyond comparisons with anything he had fought before. He could still hear the grinding of the creature above him, but from below nothing now echoed. He would have to act quickly, before anymore of these beasts made their way through the tunnels, there was no way he would stop them if he was caught in the path of one. Putting the thought of more of the creatures to the back of his mind he breathed in heavily and threw himself from the edge of the hole, falling into the darkness below.

Mobius however was surprised; he had thought that the tunnel would fall for many feet, but after a short while in suspension he landed hard and unprepared on a second sandy floor. He grimaced and stifled a yelp as his legs buckled under him and he rocked backwards onto the sand. Cursing he rubbed his legs and stood awkwardly. He looked around; it seemed exactly identical as the one room above him, but in the wall to his left was a slimy passage way, dripping with stringy slime. He now knew why the fall had not been so great, the beast had turned and headed up to the surface, the scars on the sandy roof marked its passage. Breathing a sigh of relief he concentrated back on his objective. He stood still for a moment and took in the near silence. The water could no longer be heard, but there was something else echoing from somewhere nearby. He traced the sound, the noise becoming slowly louder as he moved towards the newly dug tunnel. Mobius looked inside, the vibrations and echoes slowly making their way towards him. Something was down there, or many things. There was no use in standing around and waiting for things to happen, cautiously he stepped into the tunnel and made his way towards the noise.

After a few steps Mobius saw a dim light coming from ahead. Small black objects flittering past the light casting long shadows into the tunnel Mobius was in. The slimy surfaces had dripped down and covered his clothing with their ichors. Mobius now glowed with the green mess, so much for a stealthy advance. As he neared the end the noise had become a long droning buzz that filled his ears, and as he knelt down as he reached the end of the tunnel he looked out on a stunning scene. Lain out below him was a carpet of bugs, large as cattle, surrounded by what must have been thousands upon thousands of smaller insects, all centred around one gargantuan worm that rested in the centre. It writhed, surrounded by its insect horde, large pincers jutting from its gaping maw. On its back were small holes that secreted the green slime that Mobius was now covered in and it looked like there was no way of getting past this particular obstruction.

Now more than ever he wished he had Jheryn and Dorn here to help him, he didn't think he could take all of these creatures by himself, but now it looked like he was going to have to try. Slowly he skulked back into the darkness of the tunnel and looked into his leather bag for ingredients. Inside were four bones, not enough to raise skeletons powerful enough to beat this horde. Maybe, he thought, if he could somehow change the incantation for his bone armour he could make himself immune to their attacks for a short time. Thinking quickly Mobius whispered a few choice words and let the bones split in the air before him before binding themselves to him as they had before creating a skeletal shell. He looked down at his hands and tapped the armour, it did seems stronger due to the binding spell he had used, but only putting it into practise would tell if it was sturdy enough. Mobius looked out of the slits of the helmet into the room before him, and taking a moment to compose himself jumped out into the pit, sword and wand in hand.

He landed hard on the floor, crunching bugs beneath his bone armoured feet. He looked up, a mass of the insects had turned to face him and were charging with a buzzing noise towards his position. Raising his wand he let of a blast of magical energy sending four of the bugs reeling in a fantastic explosion of colour. Quickly he dodged to the side, as a bug flew towards him and lodged its claws into the sand next to him. Mobius slide his sword into its tough carapace and twisted, killing the thing instantly. Mobius turned his attention back to the situation at hand and ran forwards, still blasting bugs with his wand, creating a pathway towards the large queen insect at the centre of the room. He was only mere feet from the beast when a large limb smashed him in the side and sent him sprawling into the air. The armour had done its job however, and as he hit the ground hard he noticed that bar being winded he was quite fine. Mobius turned to see what had smashed him aside so easily. The limb had been from the queen herself; one of her massive limbs had smashed him aside. Snarling Mobius stood and blasted his way through more of the insects heading towards the belly of the giant beast.

It did not seem to notice Mobius as he reached the belly of the beast. Looking round Mobius saw that this was going to have to have to forfeit his armour. Whispering quickly the bone armour dissolved from his body and flew behind him, creating a solid wall protecting him, at least for the moment. Mobius took a few minutes to decide what to do before grasping his sword tightly and with a roar slamming it into the queen's underside. However, the sword bounced from her body, bending slightly on the force of the impact. A loud banging and crumbling sounded behind Mobius; the insects were getting through and were climbing over and around his shell. Mobius needed to weaken her in some way. Thinking quickly he remembered a spell to amplify the damage of weapons, an old mages trick to make bodyguards more useful against demonic creatures. He ran his wand across the blade and saw it glow red with the power, this time when the blade hit home, it sliced through like a knife through hot butter. Mobius heard a scream of pain from the queen, but it was not over yet. Grasping his wand Mobius slammed it into the new hole he had made and started chanting quickly. He could feel the wand building up with power and shaking in his hands, before he released it in a sudden gush of magical energy. With a flash of green, red, and white Mobius was lifted from his feet as the spell erupted inside the queen's body.

Moments later, Mobius stirred slowly. It was deathly silent around him, and as he opened his eyes he saw what the explosion of magical energy had done. He was now lodged deep into the side of the cavern wall, slammed into it by the force of the explosion, looking out on a scene of utter devastation. He shook the dirt and mud from himself and pulled against the sides of his small crater so he could get a better look. If it hadn't been such a serious matter, Mobius thought that it would have been quite a beautiful scene. The walls were splattered with colours, reds; blues, greens, oranges, and purples…as if some ancient cave artist had mixed the colours of let them fall where they may. All the bugs were dead, some still twitched on the floor, and the queen herself was laying flat on her stomach, the massive hole in her side weeping a green sticky substance. Cautiously Mobius walked closer, he wasn't too sure that the queen was as dead as she seemed.

As he got closer he noticed that despite her twitches the queen was very much dead. He relaxed and started his search for the object of his quest. He climbed atop the queens chitin armoured back and looked around the room. Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw it. It was masked by the colourful blood, but there was certainly something that looked like stone walling hidden within the wall to his right. Jumping down quickly Mobius landed with a thud and sprinted to the wall, now he had found this he could make his way after Jheryn and Harisha and finish this accursed chase. He reached the wall and stopped, it didn't seem to have an entrance, but his magical senses were telling him that there was something hidden behind it. Covering his eyes and standing back, Mobius aimed his wand at the wall and let a short blast of magical energy slam into the wall, splitting the stone and sending dust flying into the air.

As it cleared, Mobius lowered his arm and stared through to the other side. It was pitch black, with only the slits of light from the room he was in and the intense green glow lighting a section of the floor where a small metal stand stood upright. Within it was a twisted long staff rested against the iron. It looked like a normal piece of wood in all respects, and yet something about it glowed with magical energies. He stepped through the crumbled wall and stood before the staff. Looking around cautiously for traps of some kind, Mobius reached out a white hand and grabbed the staff, drawing it from the stand and holding it before him. He waited for a second, in case a mechanism had gone off somewhere, but he had been lucky. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned his mind to how on earth he was going to get out of here. Drognan's death had all but disappeared from his mind, especially after the combat he had just been through. His friend wouldn't want him to dwell on such things; he would want him to get the job done.

He stood still for a few seconds, before putting the staff on his back, tying it round his body with thick cloth from his robes. But, as he finished tying the last knot he felt something odd once more. It was a quiet rumbling that seemed to make the very foundations of the cave shake. He looked down beneath his feet and he felt his heart sink. Before he could react the floor split in two beneath his feet and the giant worm like creature he had seen before launched itself up into the chamber, smashing him aside once more, trapped in the darkness as it soared past through the earth. Aching slightly from the hit, Mobius has a thought, he needed to get out of here quickly, and he hoped to the Gods he would be right…but it was worth a try. He waited a few seconds, waiting for the worm to pass through, and just as its rear end flew from the ground Mobius dug his sword into its flesh and was ripped from the sandy floor and into the hole above him.

He hung on for dear life, the thing had nearly ripped his arm from his socket had he not jumped to counteract the force of the pulling. He clasped two hands around the hilt of his blade and prayed that it would not slip from the creature; otherwise it was a long, long way back down. His prayers were answered, the creature seemed to be heading straight up, he could hear the creature's body grating against the sandy walls as it climbed, before suddenly the sound stopped and he heard a gigantic bellowing roar erupt from the beast. Mobius however kept moving with the creatures rear end and in a matter of seconds he was clear of the earth beneath him, flung high into the darkening sky once more, it hadn't taken him that long it seemed. But now he had more pressing matters. As Mobius let go aiming for the sandy dunes beneath him he realised that it wasn't the best idea he had ever had…beneath him the worms head appeared, rows of needle like teeth looking up at him…drawing his wand, he knew what he had to do.

Tales of Diablo

Chapter XXVII – The Canyon of the Magi

Ronan lay still in the sand; it was so cold beneath him, making his many bruises ache with pain. He reached to his side, looking for his sword and remembered what had happened. Moaning slightly he put his hands underneath him and picked himself up, sitting back on his legs in the sand. His eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, but by the moon light he could see he was now somewhere he had not seen before. The sand was white as snow, and all around him for miles were high cliffs blocking out the stars save directly above him. He felt his head, the bloody wound had healed up nicer than he had thought. Ronan looked down, he suddenly realised he had nothing to protect himself. His armour had been smashed to pieces and he had lost his sword in that foul beast. His mentor would not be pleased he had lost the sacred sword, but he could do nothing about it now, he was trapped. He looked around him for something he could walk towards, and spotted a small stone object only a few hundred meters away. Standing slowly and weakly Ronan shuffled towards it, holding his legs as he went, feeling the strain of this constant battle taking its toll. He wondered why the mage had not just killed him straight away, unless this was another one of his cruel tricks. He shook the thought from his mind and made his way to the stone object.

As he got closer he noticed that it was a well of sorts. There was a small bucket attached to a rope hanging over the side of the thing, it looked like it was centuries old. Ronan let himself collapse against the cool stone and looked down into the black hole beneath him. He sighed and searched for a stone on the floor. Picking one he held it for a second above the hole and prayed, before dropping it. He waited, hearing the stone hit off of the stone walls, but all he wanted to hear was one sound. He smiled with relief as he heard it, the soft splash of water echoed back up the wells walls and Ronan thanked God for this one small mercy. He steadily lowered the bucket down by the fraying rope and hoped that it would hold. However, just as he heard the bottom slap the waters surface he felt something sharp against his neck.

"Stand and turn" A voice said, it seemed heavily accented so it must be a native. Ronan reluctantly let the bucket fall into the water, the rope held.

"Who stand there?" questioned Ronan, feeling it was better not to turn around at the moment in case the person got jumpy.

"None of your business slave, now what are you doing in this sacred canyon?" Ronan now realised that the voice was that of a woman, he could tell it from the way he had heard the women in Lut Gholien speak.

"I am no slave, I am Ronan Bane a Paladin of Westmarch" He hoped this would be enough to convince the woman to lower her blade, but it didn't seem to have worked.

"And why may I ask is a Paladin dressed in simple leathers without his sword at his side…in the middle of the night?" She seemed almost amused now by her tone of voice.

"That is none of your business woman, now if you will let me turn I will show you I am what I say I am" Ronan cautiously turned his head, catching a glimpse from the corner of his eye at the woman behind him. She was clad in green, rather revealing robes, not something you would expect to see someone travelling in,

"You may…but do it slowly." She withdrew the blade from his neck, but Ronan knew it hadn't gone far. He turned and faced her, revealing the white tree embroider onto his tunic and leathers.

"Now…may we lower the sword?" Ronan looked to the blade hanging in the air between them.

"Oh…of course". She no longer seemed so in command now she was in the presence of friendly souls. Ronan had to catch himself and his thoughts, she was incredibly beautiful. Her almond skin reflected the moonlight, and glistened slightly. Her eyes too shone somewhat, and her hair billowed hung long and straight around her shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" Ronan questioned, looking back for a second at the well and deciding that water could wait.

"I was sent here, by my master." She paused for a second, apparently thinking about whether or not she could continue. "He sent me to aid a Necromancer called Mobius, but somehow in my teleportation I ended up here instead. I have been trapped here for days now".

Ronan breathed a sigh of relief, at last help. His masters would not like that he was consorting with mages but this was the best news he had had in a long time. "I too am with the necromancer; I have been split from his just this day as I searched for something to aid him in his quest." He put out one of his dirty bloody hands, she shook it gingerly.

"What is this place?" She asked, looking around at the white sands and high canyon walls.

"I was hoping that you could tell me that" Ronan sat back on the wall behind him and enjoyed the first normal moment in a long time.

"Well, if my translation of the walls around here are correct, the many tombs that is, I can say with a small ounce of confidence that this is a burial ground of some sorts." She withdrew a map from her belt, encased within a small wooden tube. "Apart from that, I have no idea where it is on the maps, it's almost as if it doesn't exist at all".

Ronan was hit suddenly by an idea. "Has the Tomb of Tal Rasha appeared on any of the tomb walls you have studied?" He knew that it was a slim chance but he had to try.

She laughed and smiled. "There is indeed" But she seemed as though she knew more. "In fact, all the tombs here belong to Tal Rasha". She wondered why this Paladin was searching for the resting place of the long dead, the only reason she could see him doing so was to cleanse the place of evil.

After a moment of disbelief Ronan spoke up. "All of them belong to him?" This was going to be harder than he had first thought. "I need to find his true tomb…there is something inside that needs to be dealt with."

The sorceress smiled again. "That will be hard, it is impossible to tell which the real tomb is as all are identical inside. The only way you could know was if you knew which symbol was the true marking."

Ronan sighed. There was no way he was going to find the right tomb at this rate. Suddenly, he remembered something, something from the ancient and strange room he had been in only minutes before. He remembered a strange star emblazoned upon a shimmering wall. "Maybe…" Ronan whispered "Maybe it is THIS one?" He took a piece of stone from the sand and began to draw the shape he had seen crudely in the ground.

The sorceress seemed to know this symbol, and nodded as he finished the drawing. "Yes, this is one of the symbols, it is…" She looked due East "Over there, hidden behind those sand dunes." She looked back at Ronan who was now smiling for the first time in a long time; this truly was a night of firsts.

"Excellent, I believe that is the true tomb. Would you like to come with me?" He turned to her "By the way, I do not know your name?"

She smiled "My name is Thurone, I am a Battle Mage" She looked at the expression of the Paladins face. "And yes, I am most intrigued to find out what you seek in this tomb; no doubt it is for the necromancer that we both…follow…so it is of the utmost importance."

Ronan smiled and gestured for her to lead. As she walked past him, he noticed the small wand tucked into her belt, which also held many other things, potions and the sort. She really was well prepared, she must have been sent here for a particular purpose, but Ronan chose not to push the point. They walked together for a long while; somewhat silent at first until Thurone asked Ronan about his past, he covered up his time previous to his initiation well, and told her of his time with the order of monks in Westmarch, which all seemed so far away now. She in turn told him of her trips with the high mages and the meetings that had surrounded her appearance here. She did not divulge any information as to why her meeting with Mobius had been so important, but hinted that a death of one of her tutors had spurred this rash action from people that were normally so slow and purposeful.

The dunes seemed to go on for ages, constant rolls of sand that were a great effort to climb. Ronan felt his legs aching, and the tomb they were aiming for was still a good day's walk away. He collapsed on the sand, and lay there panting. Thurone turned and smiled at him again, she shook her head and sat down next to him. Ronan felt so much more human than he had ever felt before, he was no-longer burdened by his armour, or his weapon and he was free from things for the most part. At this moment, he felt like it was something he should remember forever, he wasn't going to get another moment like this once he found the tomb itself. He only hoped Mobius and Drognan, as well as the young prince were having a better time of it than he was.

Thurone sat and looked at the Paladin lying next to her, gazing up at the stars. He looked troubled, more by something inside him than anything physical by the scars and blood that covered his body. Something about him reminded her of a story she had read years and years ago about a man who had turned from dark roots and found enlightenment. But, that was a children's tale, it had nothing to do with this Ronan Bane. She pulled the map from her belt and studied it again quietly, letting the Paladin fall asleep on the sand next to her. She couldn't understand why this place wasn't marked on the map, especially this one, but for some reason there was no way of teleporting out of here. It looked like the only was to figure out this riddle was to find the tomb and see what was inside, for good or bad it was certainly their only option.

She sat back and let the map fall onto her lap. She looked down at her stomach and rubbed it, it grumbled slowly. She hadn't eaten in a few hours, her rations were getting thin. She thought a while ago that she might have been able to create something with her wand, but something seemed to block magical energy in this valley, she had had to resort to using a scimitar she had found in blackened ruin just north of here. It had been a grizzly scene, around four men dressed in red had been slaughtered completely…their entrails spread over a wide radius and their camp destroyed. Thurone wondered how they had got here, but she was glad she wasn't alone in this mystical place now. She lay back and looked at the stars…it would be a long walk tomorrow, and they would need their strength. She drifted into dreams, remembering the things she had left behind and what the future may hold for her now.


End file.
